The Sky Is Everywhere
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: "Mummy loves you so very, very much." Or, a collection of moments between Lily and Harry, written for the Mother's Day Event at the Hogwarts forum. Lily lives!AU.
1. Baby Makes Three

This was written for Mother's Day, 'write about a mother learning she's pregnant'. This is also the start of a collection of Harry&Lily moments.

 _Word count:_ 1140

 **Baby Makes Three**

Even before she knows she is pregnant, Lily _knows_. It's really nothing obvious, but she feels a little different. She smiles more, for one, and when you're fighting a war that's the kind of thing people notice.

James is, quite obviously, the first to take note of it, though he doesn't say anything. He smiles more too, and his eyes are a little more relieved. Lily knows that it's because this – this war they're fighting – is never what he wanted for her, for the family they're trying to build, and because James can't help but worry, sometimes.

Everyone smiles more around her, actually, a light-hearted atmosphere that is so very welcome in those dark times. It makes the Order feels a bit more like a family and a bit less of a group of vigilantes stuck together by war.

And then there's the way her hands keep drifting to her stomach. She doesn't even notice at first, not until Alice points it out. Alice, who has the same mannerism and just learned she's pregnant.

Alice is actually the one who gets Lily to truly notice that something is different with her, to bring forth the thoughts that had thus far been sitting at the back of her mind.

"How far along are you?" Alice asks one evening, as they're leaving an Order meeting. James is talking to Sirius a few steps ahead, so Lily turns toward Alice.

Lily startles, heart skipping a beat in her chest. "I'm sorry?"

"Come on Lily, you're _glowing_ ," Alice continues, rolling her eyes fondly. "If you're trying to hide it, it's fine, but you're doing a terrible job of it. But don't worry," she adds, winking, "I can keep a secret."

"But I'm not pregnant?" Lily replies, confused.

Alice just stares, eyebrow raised. "Are you sure?"

"I-" The thing is, Lily isn't sure. Thinking back on this conversation, and on her behavior in the last couple of weeks, she realizes that something _was_ different. "I have to go," she blurts out, eyes open wide in surprise. Her heart is pounding in her chest, mind whispering _maybe, maybe,_ _ **maybe**_ _._

She blows right past a concerned James, not hearing his words nor Alice's. As she focuses her mind on where she wants to Apparate, she tries to remember the last time she had her period – it's never really been regular, so it's nothing unusual for it to happen a few days, or even a week, after she expected it to. Besides, she's been so busy in those past few months she hasn't been keeping track of things like she should have, like she used to.

Did she take her potion? She thinks she did, but Merlin, what if she didn't? There had been that one time, after James and she had come back from a battle where she could have sworn she had seen him be hit by a dark curse, where for a few heart-wrenching seconds she had thought she had lost him… After, had she thought of her potion?

The memory is blurry with relief and adrenaline, and she can't be sure. She has to be sure, has to know _(but she already knows, doesn't she? This would explain everything)_.

Potions take too much time to give a proper result, and she can't wait right now. Apparating to the muggle world and purchasing the pregnancy test she needs is much faster. _Soon_ , her mind chants as she takes herself home. _Soon you'll be sure._

She is not surprised by the result. She is excited, anxious and a little bit terrified, but she is not surprised. She isn't alone for long: outside, a sharp crack resonates through the empty air, a sign that James is back too, and soon after Lily hears the front door swing open and bang shut.

"We're gonna be parents," Lily breathes out when James finds her, awkwardly in the living-room's entryway. "We're gonna be parents," she repeats, still stunned but this time looking up from the little plastic stick that told her the news.

Had Lily been anything but overwhelmed right now, she'd have laughed at the face James pulls at her words. He looks like someone smacked him across the face and he isn't sure how to respond yet, mouth slack and eyes open wide and unblinking.

"What?" James croaks out. He looks like he's about to faint.

"I'm pregnant," she replies, and James takes one step forward, and then another and another, until he just kind of crumples in front of her, kneeling. Lily grabs his hand like it's her lifeline, holds it tight until the world feels real again.

"Wow."

"Yeah," Lily smiles, and she tastes tears she didn't know she had been shedding on her lips. "James, what are we going to do?"

"What are we-What are we going to do? Lily, we're having a baby?" The sheer wonder on his face at his own words steals Lily's breath away. "This is the best thing that could possibly happen to us!"

Lily smiles again, a little wobbly. "But the war…" She points out hesitantly.

"Screw the war!" James curses, eyes burning. "Lils, we can't just let the war dictate our lives – we've got to live in the now too, or else You-Know-Who and his cronies have already won!"

It feels weird, to have James throw back her own words at her like this, but they're just as right now as they had been then. It makes her smile, and so, so glad that James is here with her, that he's the one she chose.

This time, when she smiles she's no longer crying. "So you won't worry?" she teases.

James jerks back in mock-hurt. "Me? Worry? Lies and blasphemy, I can't-Lily, come on, we both know that I never worry," he sounds so offended, a hand over his heart like she's just dealt him a death blow, that she can't help but laugh.

"Right, of course, please forgive me," she drawls, eyebrow raised as high as she can. "I never meant to imply that you would ever worry, about anything."

James scoffs, scowling. "You'd better," he replies sternly – or tries to, as his scowl trembles and turns into a smile, and then into a laugh.

Lily can't help but join in, and by the time they stop their cheeks are flushed and their eyes bright, and Lily has never felt so in love or so happy.

"Mummy loves you," she whispers to her unborn child, heart already feeling too big for her chest. James is already making faces at her stomach, and he looks happier than she's seen him in a long time, and it eases her worry, at least for now.

 _James and our baby_ , she thinks fondly as she eyes her husband's antics. _This is all I need - all I will ever need._


	2. Welcome

Written for the prompt: A mother holding her child for the first time.

 _Word count:_ 953

 **Welcome**

' _And all I can breathe is your life' – Iris, Goo Goo Dolls_

The moment the smiling and cooing mediwitch places her screaming child in her arms is the moment the pain of the last hours seems suddenly worth it. It feels like finding another piece of her heart she hadn't known was missing, like she's breathing again after so long without air.

"It's a boy," the mediwitch says needlessly, but Lily is too riveted by the little body in her arms to care.

He's so light and small, wrapped up in a soft blanket, and the moment she pulled him close to her heart he stopped yelling. Now he just stares at her through half-lidded eyes, and Lily can feel her heart melt a little more with every passing second. Not five minutes old, and she already knows she'd do anything for him.

"Well, at least we know he's got his mother's lungs," Sirius jokes from the other half of the room. It's James who silences him by stepping viciously on his foot when he realizes that Lily is too enthralled to give him the tongue-lashing she usually would.

 _(then again, maybe Sirius has a point: James' ears are still ringing from his son's wails, and Lily's voice is the last thing that managed to make that happen)_

In Lily's arms, the boy wiggles around a little, happy gurgling sounds falling from his mouth.

"Nice to see one of us still has some energy," Lily laughs, eyes crinkling up. She feels exhausted but also like she's never been more alive.

Finally, James approaches the bed. He looks at her – looks at them, really – like they're a miracle, and Lily turns her head to stare up at him, fully aware that the blissed out smile on her face shows the same thing.

He is so very careful in reaching out for their son, offering a single finger for him to tug on, that Lily feels her heart melt all over again.

"So, what are you naming my godson?"

"Because now he's your godson?" Lily couldn't help but ask, eyebrow raised questioningly at her husband and his sheepish-looking best friend a little further away in the room.

"We were going to tell you?" James winces.

Lily stares at them unblinkingly for a few moments, before her lips quirk up in a smirk. "I think you'll be an excellent godfather, Sirius," she says.

Sirius' answering smile is bright and he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, a little embarrassed. "Thanks. But really, what's his name?"

"Harry," James replies instantly, at the same moment that Lily says, "James."

"Wait," James startles, inadvertently taking his finger out of their son's grasp, prompting an adorable confused look, "I thought you were the one who said we couldn't name our kid 'James Jr.' because that was, and I quote, 'too conceited, even for you, James'."

Lily huffs out in laughter. "And you were the one who didn't like Harry, because it sounded 'too common, because let's be honest Lils, our kid is going to be extraordinary, he needs an extraordinary name'."

"Well, he is. Just look at him – he's perfect!" James protests. "Besides, I thought you liked Harry as a name."

"I do," Lily replies, laughing silently. "But I thought that _you_ didn't."

James pouts. "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

This time, Lily laughs aloud. "Fine, fine. Harry it is, then."

"Harry James Potter," James agrees, nodding his head regally.

"And here I thought you didn't want to name him James?"

"Well, you were the one to suggest it," James replies, shrugging his unabashedly.

"Only because you suggested it first," Lily laughs fondly.

"If you don't like it, we can always pick something else, you know," James says, though from the twinkle in his eyes he already knows what she'll answer.

"No, it's fine. I do like it," she confesses. "Harry James Potter," she repeats, rolling the words around on her tongue. They feel right – more right, in fact, than most anything she's ever said before.

As if sensing her mood, Harry just stares up at her, eyes open in wonder, as his tiny hands reach up toward Lily's face.

"I think he likes it," James breathes out, looking as awed as Lily feels.

Voiceless, she nods and lets Harry sluggishly try to grab onto her fingertips. Finally, throat tight with emotions, she says, "He fell asleep."

It's terrifying, and yet so gratifying, to think that such a small thing trusts her in such a way. "James," she asks, feeling a fear she can't quite explain, "what if we mess up?"

James' eyes soften. "Well, then we'll just have to make it better the second time around, won't we? Besides, you shouldn't worry so much – I'm sure you'll be just as amazing at being a mother as you are at anything else."

Lily smirks, amused at the irony. "So, just so I know… How worried are you right now?"

From where he's standing, Sirius lets out a bark of laughter that he tries to disguise as a cough.

"I'm not worried," James denies immediately, sending a dark look at his friend. At Lily's unimpressed look, he corrects himself, "Well, maybe I'm a little worried, but still, this is all going to be fine. I swear. We can do this, you know we can do this. Together, we can do anything," he adds, and it's sappy and ridiculous, but that's what Lily loves about James.

"Together," she repeats, and this time when she looks down at her sleeping child – at their _son_ – the fearis manageable. _We can do this_ , she tells herself confidently, and when she runs a shaky finger down Harry's face, she whispers to him, "We're going to be the best parents you could ever wish for, I swear."


	3. The End Is The Beginning

Written for the Hogwarts' Ancient Runes' Assignment: write about a brave sacrifice, (setting) during a war.

 _Word count:_ 1223

 **The End Is The Beginning**

They get a month after Harry is born. A month of blissful happiness, of sleepless nights and impossibly busy days – a month of being parents.

They get a month before the world catches up with them, before the war comes knocking back on their door.

Or rather, before it appears on their kitchen's table in a flash of fire, letter tied around its leg.

Harry claps his hands and gurgles happily when the Phoenix arrives, and though Lily can't help but smile fondly at the sight of the majestic bird gracefully accepting to be petted by an over-eager toddler, she also feels dread build up in her stomach at the sight of the letter, and not even Harry's happy gurgling or Fawkes' uplifting thrill can get rid of it.

 **.x.**

They leave Harry with Sirius while they go back to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore asked them to meet him. There is something slightly _bizarre_ and uncomfortable about getting asked to go to the Headmaster's office even once you've left school, and from the way James looks uneasy, she isn't the only one to feel it.

"What do you think he wants?" James asks almost idly once they cross the gates.

Lily thinks of Harry's smile and laughter, and she thinks of the war. She doesn't like the picture her mind draws. "Nothing good," she answers, words so dry they almost stick in her throat. "Nothing good at all."

"Come on, I'm sure it can't be that bad, now can it?" James shoots for uplifting but fails, but Lily doesn't remark on it. He looks as anxious as she feels, and she can tell his words are as much to reassure her as they are himself. She hopes it works better on him than on her, though she doubts it.

And in the end, James is wrong – so terribly wrong that Lily feels like she could throw up. She feels sick and helpless, furious at her helplessness and the way Dumbledore tells them ever so kindly that the best thing they can do now is to hide, to squirrel away until the war is over.

Or until You-Know-Who, curse him, finds them and kills them – until he finds Harry and kills her baby boy, her _son_ , all because some woman made a Prophecy that says her son can defeat him and that madman believed her.

Well, only over her dead body.

 **.x.**

Her son could be a hero. Will be a hero, according to a Prophecy Lily hasn't heard, even though there might be another possibility, another child that could be chosen.

Ah! Dumbledore had even said that word. 'Chosen', like it was some great honor to be a hero. It never is, though. Lily knows this, she's read her classics as a child, and heroes never live happy lives – when they do live long enough to have a life. It's everything she never wants for her child, for the baby boy she loves so, so much.

No mother, she thinks, would want for her child to be a hero. Not her, and not Alice – because it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the other child You-Know-Who is after is Neville, Alice's and Frank's son, even if no one tells them that.

And so Lily spends her days trying to find a way to make sure her child survives. That no matter what or who comes at them, Harry will be safe.

But for that, she needs help – lucky for her, her husband is there, and absolutely brilliant when it comes to creating new pieces of magic with or for the people he loves.

Lucky for them, he knows quite a bit about obscure feats of magic too, even if it's only to tell her that they're mere legends, wisps of stories passed down from one generation to the next.

It isn't until weeks into their frenzied researching though, that Lily finds something actually promising, something that could work. It's just a line – one single line in an old book, but it's enough to give them a direction, a sense of where to go to.

That line sticks in Lily's mind. _Sacrifice, when harnessed properly, can do much of anything_.

 _Sacrifice_ , she thinks, sharing a look with James as she shows him the sentence, and oh, that could work.

Six months later, they have a working plan they hope they'll never use, but at least they have hope. Hope that Harry will survive this war, no matter what.

Lily thinks that this is the most important part.

 **.x.**

They weren't ready, and she doesn't want to die. These are the only thoughts that go through Lily's mind as You-Know-Who tears apart her home (oh, Peter, why? what did they do to you to make you tell?) while she stands protectively above her child's crib.

They can't run. James is trying to hold back the madman who calls himself a Lord, but Lily knows in her heart that it won't be enough, not this time. Her husband was dead the moment he stayed behind, and that knowledge hurts too much for her to dwell on it now, not when she has to ensure that Harry is safe.

"Mama," her son calls worriedly, pudgy arms extended toward her.

"Hush, Harry," Lily replies, sending him a smile she hopes is reassuring. "You have to be quiet now, okay. Very quiet." She kisses his forehead softly, inhaling deeply for a second before drawing back, eyes blurry with tears she won't let herself shed now. "Mummy love you, alright? She loves you so very, very much."

Harry whines her name again, but Lily doesn't have time to do much but stand protectively in front of him as You-Know-Who blows the door almost right off its hinges.

It takes all she has not to raise her wand. She wants to fight, wants to curse this madman who dares come after her child, but she can't. Not if she wants to be sure the ritual James and her cooked up will work, not if she wants to have the sacrifice she's about to make be worth something – be worth everything.

So instead she focuses everything on her will and on what she wants, and she stands her ground, begging for her son's life because it's all she can do, the words escaping her mouth almost right as she thinks them.

" _Stand aside_ ," he hisses, and Lily refuses, thinks _over my dead body_ once again and keeps the ritual in her mind as her child's would-be killer finally raises his wand on her.

She only has a second of panic to realize that its tip isn't green before she's flying and her head hits the wall with a crack, before her world goes black.

She wakes up an unknown amount of time later, ears ringing and head pounding. The room is on fire and Harry is screaming – but he is _screaming_ , he is _alive_ while You-Know-Who is nowhere to be seen, and she is alive too.

She survived – her son survived, though her husband did not (he would already be there if he had, and to know that she won't ever see him smile her Harry and her is like a blow to the heart), and that is miracle enough for now.

It has to be.


	4. With Friends Like These

Written for the prompt: A new mother getting unwanted advice from everyone.

 _Word count:_ 1521

 **With Friends Like These**

The thing is, it is hard enough to raise a child as a single mother without everyone butting in like they've never learned to mind their own business. Lily isn't sure if the fact that her son has been declared 'The Boy-Who-Lived' by some asinine reporter on the Daily Prophet (a name that, to her deepest horror, had stuck despite all of her attempts to have everyone forget it) makes it so everyone feels the need to tell her how to raise her child or if that's just how people are, but whatever the reason, she just wishes it would stop.

Because yes, it had been helpful at first, and she had been so grateful for the help when she had been half drowning in grief, exhaustion and paranoia at not knowing who to trust _(Peter had betrayed them, how could she know who to trust now?)_ , but those days were behind her now – behind them. Why couldn't people just understand that?

So Lily grits her teeth and hopes not to snap, because while she has no trouble ignoring strangers she probably won't see again (and snap at _them_ when they do go too far, tutting her way like she's a hopeless case who'll damn her child along with herself), ignoring the mother of one of her son's best friend is much harder.

"I don't know what you feed that child, really. He looks so thin… I could give you a few tips, if you'd like?" Molly is saying, and Lily feels herself bristle as she bites back the need to reply that the woman's own children aren't that much bigger than her son.

"I'd appreciate that," she says instead, because while Lily has no trouble cooking, it is true that Molly is better than her in the kitchen. Harry loves both their food – he's told her so many, many times – but his favorite dessert, to Lily's eternal dismay, is still Molly Weasley's treacle tart.

"Of course," Molly replies with a smile. "Just let me get my recipes' book." She waves her wand and the book floats closer, and this, right there, reminds Lily why it's so hard to stay mad at the other redheaded mother for long.

Molly means well, and Lily is so grateful for her help with Harry, both in the earlier days and now still, where she often leaves Harry in her care while she goes to work, but sometimes the older woman is just… too much.

Harry comes running in not long after that, interrupting one of Molly's numerous hints at Lily dropping her job to take care of her son. The other woman has said those things so many times that it takes all Lily has not to roll her eyes at her these days, though tuning her out definitely helps.

Harry slips his arms around his waist and squeezes tight, and Lily smiles somewhat helplessly, ruffling his hair a little and dislodging a couple of leaves.

"Had fun?" she asks, amused when Harry nods against her stomach.

"We played dragons and wizards," he explains seriously, lisping a little. "I was the best dragon too, even Ron said so," he adds, wide smile revealing the missing teeth he had lost a couple of days ago. It's growing back, Lily notices, though it does so slowly.

"So you got a lot of treasure?" Lily asks, amused smile playing on her lips.

Harry nods enthusiastically. "Uh, uh," he says, before flushing violently. "I got the prettiest princess too," he adds, but his cheeks are as red as Lily's own hair.

Lily laughs inwardly, trading an amused look with Molly. She has a feeling she knows exactly who this 'princess' is.

"Oh? Tell me more about this princess of yours then," she asks. "She must be the real deal, for a dragon such as yourself to capture her."

To her surprise, though Harry's blush does deepen again, he shakes his head. "I didn't cat-capture her," he replies, stumbling over the word and frowning as he corrects his pronunciation. "She came to me and said she was my knight-princess and then we fought the wizards and we won and it was awesome, mum, really!"

Yes, definitely the little Ginny, Lily thinks as she hears the tale and hears Molly's own muffled laughter. That girl is already a little spitfire, and Lily can't wait to see what she'll become when she's older – or what'll happen to the adorable puppy crush she and her son have on each other.

"Well, I'm sure you can tell me more about this tonight over dinner, now can't you?"

Harry groans and turns pleading eyes on her. "Aww, can't I stay just a little longer? Please?"

It is terribly hard to resist him, but she knows her son too well. If she cedes now, next time he'll ask for more, and the time after that even more, and then when she'd finally have to put her foot down it'd end in tears. Once of this whole charade has been enough for her, thank you very much.

"I'm sorry, but no, Harry. We have to go home. Besides, I'm sure Molly wants us to get out of her hair," Lily tries to persuade him with, appealing to the compassion she knows her son has but it fails when the woman in question interrupts.

"Nonsense, Lily, really. I'll be more than happy for you and little Harry to stay a little longer! It's really no trouble at all, I assure you. Why, you could even have dinner here too – Morgana knows I always cook too much anyway, and you could use a more restful evening, couldn't you?"

Lily's lips thin as she carefully words her answer, pretending not to see the way Harry confusedly looks between her and Molly. "Thank you, Molly, but that won't be necessary. Harry and I have plans for tonight, don't we Harry?"

Her boy, bless him, barely needs any prompting to sputter out a "yes", even though they haven't actually made any plans.

Lily nods, trying to hide her relief, and smiles at her son to avoid glaring at Molly. "Now come on, let's say goodbye to your friends before we go – and don't take too long, you'll see them again tomorrow!" she yells at his retreating back as he runs back outside to his friends.

"I'm sorry," Molly apologizes. "I didn't mean to…"

"Overstep?" Lily finishes in her place, politely ignoring the way Molly winces. "I know." She sighs, suddenly exhausted. "It's just – I know I'm not the perfect mother, but I'm doing my best and if you-" _could stop pointing out everything you think I do wrong it'd be great, thanks_ , she doesn't say, biting her tongue, though from the pained look in Molly's eyes the woman gets the gist of it anyway.

"I only meant to help," Molly protests, drawing back defensively.

"I know," Lily repeats with a calm smile. "I know and I really appreciate it, but sometimes it's a bit…"

"Too much?" Molly completes for her, sounding bittersweet

"A little," Lily replies, wincing but unable to lie about this.

Molly seems to deflate. "I'm sorry," she apologizes again. "I'll do better next time?"

"I'm sure you will," Lily says kindly, before leaving to collect her son.

Later, after she apparates them home, Harry tells her, "You know, if you don't really like Mrs. Weasley it's fine."

Startled, Lily asks, "What makes you think that I don't like her?"

Harry frowns a little. "Well, you always look weird and kinda angry around her, and Percy said that when you're angry with someone it means you don't like them anymore."

Lily almost laughs at the childish perspective, but she supposes it is true enough. She ruffles her son's hair fondly and unlocks their door, allowing them inside.

"Molly and I were having a difference of opinion, that's all. It's nothing for you to worry about – mummy will deal with it, it won't affect you or your friendship with Ron and his siblings."

Harry looks at her like she's grown a second head. "Mummy, Ron's _my_ friend," he says like he can't understand why she'd think their friendship could be I trouble. "He's not gonna care if you don't like his mum anymore."

Lily's lips quirk up. "While I'm glad of that, I can assure you that I don't actually 'not like Mrs. Weasley anymore'," she reassures him.

"Really?"

"Really," Lily confirms. "Now come and give your mother a hug."

Laughing, Harry complies. "You know you're the best mum, right?" he asks her after a few moments in the hug, head tilted up toward her face. "Like Ron says his mum's better, but that's only cause she his _mum_ – _you_ 're the best."

Throat suddenly too tight, Lily only nods and hugs Harry a little tighter.

 _("So mum, what are we eating tonight?"_

" _I don't know yet."_

" _Does that mean we can eat pizza in front of a movie then?"_

" _No. But I suppose we could eat a full meal in front of a movie."_

" _With the green things?"_

" _Yes, Harry, with vegetables."_

" _Eww, for real?"_

" _Yes.")_


	5. Cleaning

Written for Hogwarts' Mother's Day Event: write about a mother&child slice of life, and for the Golden Snitch Daily Prompt Thread: (action) cleaning.

 _Word count:_ 1041

 **Cleaning**

"You know, this wouldn't be happening if you had just cleaned up your room like I told you to, when I told you to do it, Harry," Lily says sternly, looking down at her son, who just shifts sheepishly.

"But mum," Harry whines, "cleaning's so boring… Why can't we just use magic to do it, like you do everywhere else?"

Lily sighs, but motions at Harry to sit down on the bed beside her. "When I was your age," she starts, only to be interrupted by Harry's unimpressed look.

"Come on, mum, do you have to tell me this every time?"

Almost despite herself, Lily feels her lips quirk up and she ruffles her son's hair, ignoring his squeal of protest as he tries to duck away. "When I was your age," she repeats a little more seriously, "I didn't know I had any magic to use-"

"-because you're a muggleborn," Harry interrupts, before flushing. "I mean, that's what Neville said… Sorry for interrupting," he finally mumbles, peaking at her through his lashes.

Lily laughs. "Well, if Neville said so…" She replies, amused, before taking pity on her son. "But yes, I am a muggleborn. That means I didn't grow up with magic."

She can see it's a weird idea for him to comprehend, and that thought makes her smile. She's tried to make sure Harry's not entirely reliant on magic – most wizards become useless without a wand, after all, or can't think their way around a puddle without magic, and she doesn't want that for her son – by not using it whenever she can, but she's not sure how successful that venture has been.

Though she should have expected it, really. They might not leave in a magical district of London, but their apartment itself was pretty magical, and there were aspects of Lily's works that just couldn't be masked. Besides, what little boy – what child could resist the appeal of _magic_? Lily certainly hadn't been able to at his age.

"But anyway, when I was your age," she starts again, eyes twinkling as Harry groans and flops back on his bed, "I didn't have any magic to help me clean my room, and I consider it a building experience that I am now sharing with you."

"Thanks, mum," Harry replies mulishly, making her dread the days where he'll be an actual teenager. Merlin, how will she survive?

Thankfully, he's not too old yet that she can't just tickle his frown away, and so she does just that.

"Come on, now," she says once Harry has stopped frowning and gotten his breathing back under control. "You know what you have to do."

"Are you sure you can't just use magic?" Harry whines again, but he's already standing up and dragging his feet toward the messier part of his bedroom, so Lily considers it as a win and decides not to answer that question.

It is slow going, mostly because Harry clearly isn't enthused at the idea of spending his afternoon inside cleaning his room instead of playing with his friends. Well tough – Lily told him he could only go outside once he tidied it up, and she's already let this slide for way too long. Any longer and she's afraid something in her son's room might find a way to come to life, _without magic_.

The silence is nice, peaceful even, only ruptured by Harry's quiet grumbling when he tugs on something that unravels yet another messy part and the rustling sounds of fabric, toys and books being picked up and set aside. Slowly, the carpet and the floorboards beneath appear again, and from Harry's tried huffing noises she can tell he won't let his room get this bad again anytime soon.

Lily helps too, of course she does. She's the one who places his books back in the bookcase when it's too high for him to reach, and she regularly picks up the pieces of clothing he sheepishly manages to unearth and put them with the rest of their dirty laundry. She cleans up underneath his bed too, because Merlin knows Harry won't go there himself, and she does it without magic too.

Lead by example, her mother always said, and as much as Lily had hated cleaning her own room, she had loved spending that time with her own mother. She hopes she can pass that on to her son now.

Finally, when the floor is clear and everything is more or less put away, she grabs two brooms – one that she shrunk a while ago to fit Harry's size before she hands it to him, and they set to sweeping.

Oddly enough, this part of cleaning Harry does like. That's why he has his own broom – sometimes (usually when Lily expects it the least) he just goes into the closet and takes it out to start sweeping around the apartment.

He always looks so focused doing it too, and it is utterly adorable. Of course, Harry still prefers the magical brooms that _fly_ (because of course of all the Potter genes to inherit the flying one had to be one of them), but at least these brooms don't send her heart into a frenzy whenever he grabs one.

Harry's bedroom isn't that big, and with two of them they get done quickly. With a wink to her son, she takes out her wand and, wordlessly because those are her son's favorite tricks, she vanishes their little piles of dust away.

Her son claps and Lily ruffles his hair again, smiling at his grumbling, before speaking, "Now come on, what do you say we go outside to celebrate a job well done?"

Harry noticeably perks up. "Can we get ice cream?"

Laughing, Lily replies, "Sure, we can get ice-cream. But not too much, or you won't be hungry for dinner," she cautions.

Harry rolls his eyes at her, but he's already racing for their coats before she can reprimand him. "Mum, I'm always hungry," he tells her as he goes, and well, that is certainly true these days.

With one last look around the empty room, Lily sets after her son. Merlin knows that when ice-cream is on the line, he might very well leave her behind.


	6. Late Night

Written for the prompt: 'A mother reading a story/singing a song etc', and the Study of Healing Assignment at Hogwarts (Write about someone moving past a negative experience).

 _Word count:_ 1398

 **Late Night**

The soft sound of padded footsteps is what wakes her up. Even now, years after the war ended – years since anyone last came after them – Lily's first reflex is to grab the wand she keeps under her pillow and stay still, before her brain wakes up enough to recognize that what she heard were her son's footsteps.

It hurts a little, to know that Harry has learned to be wary of waking her up the way a child normally wakes up their parents, but better this than the alternative. Lily doesn't think she could live with herself if she learned that she had hurt her son, however inadvertently.

"What is it, Harry?" she asks softly, moving the covers around so she can sit up on her bed with her back against the wall. A wave of her wand has the room illuminated by the dull glow of a silent Lumos, revealing shining tear tracks on her son's face.

"Oh," she sighs, opening her arms. "Come here."

Harry shuffles on the bed, folding himself in her arms. Slowly, the trembling of his body slows and halts.

Soon, he will be too big for her to do this, and the thought is more bittersweet than she had thought it would be.

"The nightmare again, huh?" Lily asks, though she already knows the answer. There's only one dream – one nightmare – that can shake her son like this, and unfortunately it's the one she's powerless against, seeing as it's not only a nightmare but also a memory.

She remembers how terrified she had been the first time Harry had confessed to remembering _that night_ , how frustrated and angry she had felt at that, that _monster_ , for scaring her child on top of everything else he had done.

Of course, Harry hadn't known that it was a memory then. Eventually, Lily had had to tell him – the nightmare was recurring enough that everything else she had tried obviously hadn't worked – and that had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

It had helped though, at least a little. _This particular monster_ , she had told him, praying that she was right with all she had, _had been vanquished and couldn't – wouldn't – hurt him again._

In fact, Harry hadn't had had this particular nightmare in months, and Lily had thought it gone for good, though obviously, she had been asking for too much.

As she thinks about this, Harry nods voicelessly against his shoulder. "The green light again," he confirms, and Lily tightens her arms around him, running one hand on his hair.

"He's gone now, you don't have to be scared. He's gone now," she hushes softly against his hair, tears stinging at her eyes.

"But what if he comes back?" Harry whines, and Lily would smile at the sound she hasn't heard in weeks if it were in any other context.

"He won't," she swears, cursing silently as she realizes what this is about.

She will have to have a conversation with the boy's friends. This undoubtedly has something to do with one of them, and while she doesn't believe they meant any harm by it, it would have been easy for any of them to mention in one of their games that villains rarely stayed down for long.

Some of Molly's children are old enough to know more of the mysterious circumstances surrounding Voldemort's disappearance, as well as too young to truly consider how easily they can frighten younger children.

 _(after all, she's heard all about how Molly's twins scared young Ron enough that the mere mention of a spider suffices to terrify him)_

"Really?"

"Really," Lily promises, leaning back a little from the hug to stare Harry straight into the eyes. "And even if he did," she adds, because she can feel that Harry needs more reassurance still, "we kicked his ass once, we can do it again."

Harry giggles at her crass words, but he also relaxes so Lily knows it worked.

"Feel better, now?"

"Yeah," Harry nods sleepily.

"Good," she smiles. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?"

Harry looks momentarily terrified, and Lily winces. His fingers knots in her pajama top, stretching the cloth, and Lily knows what her son will ask for moments before he does.

"Can I stay with you?"

She sighs, but no matter how much she thinks she should say no – Harry is growing older now, too old to sleep in his parents' (or rather, parent) bed now – she can't resist the look in his eyes as he stares up hopefully at her.

"Fine, but just this once," she answers, shuffling around a little so that Harry has enough room to actually lie down.

Harry's smile is blinding, and proof that she made the right choice.

"Can you tell me a story?"

Harry's voice is soft and almost shy, and even though it is very late – or is it early by now? – Lily can't help but smile and comply.

"What kind of story would you like?"

Harry prefers stories about knights and princesses on great adventures. A little Gryffindor in the making, she thinks fondly whenever he asks her for one of those. He also rather enjoys the wizarding stories Lily hadn't really known existed before Molly gifted her with a tome of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, though Lily herself does find them rather creepy for children's tales.

"Can you tell me something about dad?" Harry finally asks, his silence long enough that Lily had begun wondering if he hadn't fallen asleep.

"Sure," Lily smiles, though her heart skips a beat in pain as she does so.

She should have known, really. Harry loved to hear stories about his father, after all, and what else would he ask for now, with the memory of the moment he died still hovering over him?

She takes a moment to compose herself, locking the pain away as she tries to find something appropriate to tell Harry. It gets easier every time she does this – every time she digs in her past for happy times with James (not happier, because despite the hole James' death has left in her chest, she wouldn't trade the life she has now, with their son, for anything in this world), it gets a little bit less painful to do so.

She's not sure if she's afraid or looking forward to the day where it will no longer hurt, where wistfulness will replace the pain.

"So, I don't believe I've told you how our actual first date went," she starts musingly, ignoring Harry's blushing protest of, "Mum, I don't want to hear about you and dad kissing again!".

"We went to Hogsmeade, the small wizarding village near Hogwarts," she continues once Harry has settled down, keeping her voice soft. "It was late winter – the snow was just beginning to melt, and though it had rained the day before, that morning the sky was clear and the sun made the snow glow like diamonds. It was beautiful-"

"-but you were prettier," Harry adds faithfully, with the assurance of a child who cannot imagine anyone more perfect in their eyes than their mother, and Lily laughs.

"Thank you, Harry," she says, still chuckling. "As a matter of fact, your father said the same thing to me."

"Good," Harry replies in a mutter that stretches into a yawn, and Lily's mile widens. "What happened then?" He asks, eyes fluttering close.

"Well, we walked around the village for a while. It was cold, but with a good warming charm we could barely feel it."

Harry's eyes are closed now, and from the small smile on his lips he's trying to picture the scene. She spares him the knowledge that she and James had kissed more than once then – as funny as it is to see her son fluster and pull faces when he hears about it, she wants him to fall asleep now – and continues the story, describing how they had eventually ended up at a table at The Three Broomsticks, tucked away out of sight – or as close as they could get in there – sharing the sweets they had bought at Honeydukes over their Butterbeers.

Eventually, Harry's breathing deepens as Lily's voice lulls him to sleep and Lily shuts down her Lumos with a faint smile, kissing Harry's forehead before she too succumbs to sleep.


	7. Bedtimes

Written for the prompt: A mother tucking her child into bed, and the Study of Healing Assignment at Hogwarts (Write about someone moving past a negative experience).

 _Word count:_ 1077

 **Bedtimes**

Lily still remembers the first time she had tucked Harry into his bed. He had been so small then, had looked so vulnerable, that Lily hadn't wanted to leave, that she had wanted to stay by his side all through the night to keep an eye on him.

It had been James, in the end, who though he felt the same, had managed to reason with her and convince her that alarm spells and proximity wards would do the trick for the night so that she could rest.

She misses him. At Hogwarts, she had spent so long convincing herself that she hated him, that he was only a good-for-nothing arrogant toe rag, but now those days just seem foolish. They bring the taste of ashes to her mouth when she thinks back on them, as well as the sour taste of _could-have-beens_ and _if-onlys_.

They didn't get much time together, so now those years feel like wasted time, even though she knows that the James from back then isn't the same James she fell in love with. Oh, there had been hints of him in the greater whole, but they had been just that: hints.

Knowing that doesn't stop her from wishing they had gotten closer sooner though, especially as now she's spent more years raising Harry than she has spent married.

It gets a little bit easier every day, but still, every action she takes than she once shared with James makes her heart pang.

She hates it, hates that she can't manage to let this go, that these moments of happiness she shares with her son feel tainted by the grief she can't simply not feel.

The first time she had had to do it without James had been the hardest, she thinks. Not the first night, because that had been spent in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing – the only safe place she had been able to think of – but the one just after, when they had been able to leave but hadn't had a home to go back to.

Sirius had volunteered his instead, and Lily had accepted almost immediately, but when it had come to letting Harry go for the night, she had nearly collapsed in tears.

In the end, she hadn't slept that night either – hadn't left the room either. She had just stared at him, part of her mind still trying to convince herself that he had survived (Merlin, their ritual had worked, they had saved their son, and it hadn't been until then that she had truly realized how unexpected that had been), and had let the night pass.

The only way Sirius had been able to convince her to sleep had been to tell her he'd watch Harry for her, that he would take his eyes off of him – and Lily had believed him, because if there was one person in the whole world who knew what it was to love James Potter, it was Sirius Black, and Harry was all they had left of him beside memories.

It had taken her weeks before she had been able to return to the routine she had shared with James, weeks before she felt they were safe enough for her to sleep through the night – and even then nightmares had woken her up.

In contrast, Harry had slept through the nights with little trouble back then (ironically enough, he had slept like a baby). His nightmares had come later, and Lily would forever be thankful for that.

It had only been then too, that they had moved out of Sirius' place – though Sirius, as both a friend and Harry's godfather, was forever welcome in their now home – and into the apartment they still live in now.

She remembers the first time she had tucked Harry in bed in that new apartment too. That memory is engraved in her mind, as are so many others, and it shines like gold.

Even with magic, and Sirius and Remus' help, she had been exhausted by the time the apartment had been ready to live in. Part of it had been Harry, who at the last moment had decided he didn't want to leave after all and had started screaming and crying, part of it had been the moving itself, and part of it had been the exhausting perspective of living somewhere new with only Harry by her side.

Sirius and Remus had left early with the promise of being only a Floo call away, so Lily had eaten a sandwich prepared quickly because she wasn't in the mood for more, before she had fed Harry and prepared him for sleep.

It had been then, as she had stepped into her baby's room – no longer a mere nursery, but a room where she could actually see hints of the future bedroom it'd turn into – that she had realized that this was their home now, and that they were here to stay.

Somehow, underneath the sky the last two Marauders had sneakily managed to charm on the ceiling so that it looked like the enchanted one in the Hogwarts' Great Hall, Lily had finally felt safe.

"What do you say, Harry?" she had asked the sleepy toddler in her arms, rocking it gently as she had moved. "Think you'll like it here?"

Harry had gurgled happily before he had tugged at her hair, and Lily had laughed, half-glad, half-relieved, for the first time since James had died.

"I'm glad you think so," she had said, leaning gently to lay him down in his crib, rearranging the covers so he wouldn't get tangled in them as he slept. She had leaned back after a soft kiss on his forehead, right on the scar that showed he had lived – the greatest and only miracle she could ever have asked for – and with a light touch of her wand had set his mobile in motion.

She had stayed until he had fallen asleep, lulled by the broomsticks flying in circles above him.

This is the memory she recalls every time she tucks him into bed now. Soon he'll tell her he's too old for that – she can already tell he's considering it, when he frowns for half a second when she acts 'too motherly', whatever that means – and she'll miss it terribly, but it'll be fine.

Her baby boy is growing up, and he's happy – most of all, he's alive and he's sfae, and nothing could make her happier.


	8. Visiting The Family

Written for the prompt: A mother being proud of her child for something small and seemingly insignificant.

 _Word count:_ 1714

 **Visiting The Family**

As soon as the cab pulls in in front of the plain looking house, all the reasons why Lily hasn't visited her sister since her wedding come rushing back to her.

"Here we are, Mrs. Potter," the driver says with a smile that a reveals a broken tooth. Lily doesn't hear the amount he tells her, and it takes Harry elbowing her for her to snap out of it.

"Sorry," she winces, sending her son a grateful look before turning back to the driver. Great, now he too looks concerned.

"I could always take you back," he offers, and as Harry looks up at her quizzically she shakes her head no and hands him the money.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," she smiles. "Just going to visit some family I haven't seen in a while."

He nods like that means everything – and come to think of it, it probably does. "Well then, if you're sure. Someone'll be there to pick you up at five pm."

"I'm sure," she replies, nodding as well. The man leaves after that, and she takes a deep breath before walking toward the door, Harry by her side.

"Are you okay, mum?" her son asks, staring up at her with concerned eyes. "You haven't told me a lot about Aunt Petunia and her family before."

Lily smiles warmly at him, though it looks a little frayed at the edges. "I know, but we haven't spoken in a long time. For her to ask me to visit now… I couldn't not come," she adds.

Harry frowns for a few seconds before his face clears up. "I think I get it," he says brightly, and Lily ruffles his hair fondly, even though she doubts he understands the situation when she herself still feels a little lost about it.

The last time she had seen Petunia, her sister had stared at her hatefully and practically disowned her, saying she didn't want to see Lily's face ever again. It had broken Lily's heart to keep away from her last remaining blood family, but eventually she had had to admit that things between them had been broken long before then.

Never would Lily have thought that Petunia would be the one to contact her after all these years, and yet it had happened. It had happened, and so Lily has to see this through, whatever _this_ is.

"Don't take everything they say to you too seriously, alright?" Lily warns her son, sad that she feels the need to but determined to protect him from the sharp bite of Petunia's words that she had had to suffer through for years.

Harry frowns again, and it twinges at her heart. "Isn't she nice?"

Lily's mouth goes dry as she considers how to answer this. Finally, she shrugs and simply says, "Petunia can be very opinionated sometimes," and hopes that it's enough of an answer to satisfy her curious son.

Thankfully, it seems that it is, and so he's back to practically vibrating form excitement by her side as she rings the doorbell.

The door opens almost immediately.

"Lily," her sister greets her curtly, mouth pursed thin. "Come in." She doesn't quite sneer at Harry, but already Lily thinks she's going to regret bringing him along.

Still, this may very well be the only chance her son gets to meet his cousins, and Harry deserves that. Her sister's kids do too – despite the way she and Petunia may not get on anymore, that animosity will never extend to the children. At least not on her side.

"Vernon isn't here?" Lily asks once they're inside and shrugging their coats off. It hurts, to act so casually with the sister she hasn't seen in so long, but Petunia set the tone, and Lily has the feeling that her sister is hovering on the edge of a cliff right now, and that the slightest thing could bring her tumbling down. The last thing she wants is to be responsible for that, so she'll keep to this status-quo, even if it breaks her heart a little.

Something shutters close on Petunia's face, but Lily doesn't comment on it. It does explain why Petunia seemed so panicked when she asked Lily to come, though not why she did so.

"No," she says, sounding a little chocked up. "He left."

Lily knows from the way Petunia says 'left' that the older woman doesn't just mean that Vernon left to buy bread. There's a very final tone to it, and it rings through the air long after Petunia stops talking.

Their awkward conversation is interrupted by the sound of footsteps thumping down the stairs. A little girl, brownish pigtails tied with pink ribbons framing a lovely face, is the first to join them downstairs, though her old brother, despite his rather impressive size, isn't far behind.

"Mum, mum," the girl yells as she runs down, "is that-" She cuts herself off when she sees Lily and Harry, the latter half-hiding behind Lily's legs still. The girl hides her emotions quickly, but the crushing disappointment on her face stabs sharply at Lily's chest for the short time it's there.

"Oh," she says, coming to a stop in front of them. She blushes a little but mostly stares questioningly at her mother, who looks a bit livelier than before, and is soon dwarfed by her brother who stops half a step behind her and hovers there.

Petunia smiles at her children, moving closer to them so she can rest a hand on their shoulders.

"These are Rose and Dudley," she introduces, nodding at the little girl first, who waves shyly, and then at the boy, who grunts something inaudible. "Rose, Dudley, this is my sister Lily, and her son Harry."

They exchange stiff greetings for a few moments before Petunia sighs. "Now kids, why don't the both of you show Harry around the house? And then you can even play in the garden for a little while, alright? Mummy needs some time to talk with her sister."

Both children nod, one more enthusiastically than the other, and with one last half-pleading look toward her, Harry follows them without further prompting.

By the time they're halfway up the stairs, Harry is chatting up quietly with his newly discovered cousins, and he's even managed to draw a smile from the two of them. For some reason, her heart fills with pride at the sight, and she can't help but smile too.

It is kind of amazing, how quickly her son can kind other children to open up to him, how kind he is even though he hasn't had the easiest of upbringing – Lily tries, but there are some things she can't quite make up for, and sometimes she's afraid Harry will end up resenting her for those.

And then she sees him like this, and those worries melt away like snow in summer.

So Petunia and her move into the living-room, and a few minutes later they're talking over a cup of tea as their children's laughter resonates from above.

When the time comes for them to leave, Lily finds that she is actually dreading it a little, and that Petunia, surprisingly enough, shares her reluctance.

Harry is just as reluctant, dragging his feet to the door with a pout, Rose sending him and her mother pleading looks. Even Dudley, who otherwise seemed the most standoffish of the three kids, looks like he'd like Harry to stay.

"Well, I think it's time for me to get this little hellion home," Lily tries to joke as the car honkers down outside, ruffling Harry's hair to the boy's distaste. The joke falls flat, but Petunia's lips quirk up in a smile anyway.

"I-" Petunia starts, before licking her lips nervously. "Rose is a witch," she finally blurts out, wincing, and Lily startles.

"What?"

The three children are silent, and Harry's eyes are open wide with disbelief. Dudley just shuffles closer to his little sister, who shifts uneasily on her feet.

"Don't make me repeat it," Petunia scowls, though she immediately sends a smile she hopes is reassuring to her daughter.

"You're going to have to, though," Lily answers, half-amused. "Your daughter is a witch, Petunia. Can you deal with that?"

If possible, Petunia's lips get thinner as her scowl darkens. "Yes," she bites, eyes ablaze, "I can."

Lily's smile only grows wider, a weight she hadn't been aware she was carrying suddenly lifting off her shoulders.

"Does that mean Rose'll go to Hogwarts like me?" Harry asks, tugging on her sleeve for attention.

It's hard to tell who's more surprised by Petunia's lack of reaction to the word 'Hogwarts' - which once upon a time had been the muggle needed to start screaming – Lily or Petunia herself. The silence stretches for a handful of uncomfortable moments, before Petunia shakes her head slightly.

"If she wants to go," Petunia replies, and finds herself truly glad that this, at least, doesn't hurt anymore. She's rewarded when Rose smiles brightly up at her, and starts cheering along with Harry.

The car outside honkers once again, louder too, and Lily winces. "I think that's our cue," she says, taking Harry's hand. Her son pouts a little, but he goes with her eagerly enough after they rush through 'goodbye's and 'see you later's.

His eyes are still bright with wonder, and Lily can tell that he's mouthing to himself that he gets a cousin who has magic too. That too, sends an odd surge of pride through her veins. He's not even Hogwarts' age himself, but he's already looking out for the younger years, and she couldn't be prouder.

On a whim, she presses a soft kiss on top of his hair, laughing at the way it makes him squirm.

"What was that for?" Harry protests half-heartedly, lips twitching in a smile despite his obvious effort to stop them.

"Nothing," Lily replies. "I just love you."

Harry rolls his eyes a little, embarrassed, but he does lean a little closer on the backseat of the car. Lily can see in the rearview mirror that their driver is smiling fondly now, but she doesn't quite care. "Love you too, mum," Harry says, and Lily just tucks him in closer, heart growing ever fonder.


	9. Memento

Written for the prompt: A mother and child making something together.

 _Word count:_ 1965

 **Memento**

"Can we make a letter and a card this year?" Harry asks her on Halloween morning, biting his lips nervously, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

Lily's heart catch in her throat, as it always does when someone mentions James, but she manages to swallow her mouthful of coffee easily. "Sure," she replies with a smile, even as her heart twinges painfully at the idea that her son will never dimply enjoy Halloween the same way other kids his age do.

Harry smiles back cheerfully, and sits at the table in front of her, grabbing the milk and his cereals and pouring both in his bowl. "Cool," he says, before diving into his food like he hasn't eaten in days.

Lily rolls her eyes, but she watches him fondly anyway.

She doesn't quite remember when they started this little tradition of theirs. She remembers why, though – of course she remembers why. It's hardly the kind of thing one would just forget. But the details of the _when_ have blurred in her mind over the past few years. She supposes it doesn't really matter though. The _when_ had never been the point of this.

Harry had been younger then, though old enough that he had finally understood why he didn't have a father – why they visited a cemetery every year instead of celebrating Father's Day. The nightmares had started around that time too, and that had been why she had decided they should do something for James, something to make him more real to Harry than the story she told him did.

Doing a card they could leave on his grave had seemed like a wonderful idea then. Kids write cards for their parents all the time, after all – or at least she remembers doing so for her parents – and she likes the idea that, no matter where James is now, they're keeping him informed, keeping him in their lives.

He'd have liked that, she thinks, and as usual the thought twinges painfully in her chest.

When Harry's done with his breakfast, she sends him off to brush his teeth and get dressed while she gathers the supplies they need.

She keeps them neatly arranged in a carved wooden box that is one of the last items to have survived the destruction of their previous home. It had been a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday, probably meant to be used as a jewelry box (and for a while it had been), but Lily had found another purpose for it quickly enough.

She had never had enough jewelry to warrant such a big jewelry box anyway – just a handful of necklaces and bracelets, and her wedding ring, which she never took off. Using the box to keep the art supplies she and Harry occasionally need is much more practical.

They make the cards by hand, muggle-style. For all that magic is wonderful and amazing and so, so helpful in their everyday life, there are some things Lily feels don't carry quite the same weight when you use magic to do them.

By the time she's gathered everything she thinks they'll need, Harry is finally back. He looks excited, and Lily smiles as she gestures at him to sit beside her.

They always do this on the ground. The first year, Lily remembers that they had tried to work on the table, but Harry kept dropping the paint on the ground, and at some point her son had just decided it'd be easier to work from down there. She had tried to resist, but now it's just another part of this little routine of theirs.

"So, do you want to start with the letter or the card?" she asks.

Harry looks conflicted for a moment, eyes flittering from one stack of parchment to the heavier paper they use to make cards. "I-The letter, I think. Can we?"

Lily smiles kindly. "Of course," she answers as she grabs the paper and hands it to him. They'll use real parchment for the final letter – it'll be good practice for Harry's penmanship if nothing else – but it'd take too much time to do the same for the no doubt numerous pages he'll go through first.

Harry grabs the paper almost reverently, his fingers stroking it softly. "Thanks," he says, before taking a pencil.

He looks adorable as he starts writing, eyes focused on his paper and tongue poking out a little at the right corner of his mouth. He chatters as goes too, telling her what he's writing as he does it, asking if "Dad would like to know this, do you think?" or if she can correct his spelling when he doesn't know how to write this or that word.

Most of the time, though, he narrates as if he's actually talking to James, and that is both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

"And last week we went to visit Aunt Petunia again," he says brightly. "Well, mum went to see her – I was there for Rose and Dudley. They're pretty great too. Well, Dudley can be kind of mean, but Rose says he'd never harm her, and anyway it's mostly his friends who are bad. Rose is awesome too, and she's even a witch like us," he continues, smiling happily at his own words.

To hear that her son is getting on well with his cousins warms her heart, so Lily smiles too.

"Rose is pretty young though, so she can't do a lot of stuff we do with Dudley – but she's funny, so it's cool."

Finally, Harry's chatter comes to a stop and he hands her his finished draft proudly. His fingertips have greyed from the pencil, and they leave odd streaks on the paper where he holds it.

An author her son is not, she thinks fondly as she reads the letter. It reads almost exactly like what he just spent the last half hour saying, but somehow she doesn't think James would mind, if he were here to see it too.

"It's pretty good," she congratulates him, watching him preen at the words. "I think you can copy it on parchment now."

Harry groans, and Lily laughs. "Come on, it's not that bad. Everyone uses quills. You wouldn't want to be the only one with terrible handwriting once you get to Hogwarts now, would you?"

As usual, mentioning Hogwarts eases the reluctance, though it doesn't erase it completely. "But quills are terrible, mum," Harry whines. Lily has to bite her cheek to stop herself from smiling. "Why can't we just use pens?"

Lily hums, considering. "I guess we could use pens now, _if_ you agree to work on your penmanship later."

He makes a face, but he agrees. "I swear, I'll do it. But not today, though, right?" His anxiety at these last few words is ridiculous, but Lily knows better than to mock her child now, even fondly.

"Not today, no," she confirms, and Harry cheers even as he grabs a handful of colored pens while Lily hands him half a roll of parchment.

She can tell that he wants to rush – doing the card is his favorite part, after all – but somehow he manages to restrain himself. Still, it doesn't take Harry long to finish copying the letter down on the parchment.

"Done!" He cheers, smiling brightly up at her. His hands are covered in thin color traces from the pens, and she's already dreading his state after they finish the card, where Harry usually uses paints, and on one (unfortunately) memorable occasion when he was six, blue and green glitter.

"Very nice," she congratulates him. "Now let me just put this away on the table and we'll do the card now, alright?"

Harry smiles, but to her surprise it turns into a frown almost immediately. "But don't you want to write something too? Look, I even left room," he says, pointing at the parchment. And indeed, there is a blank space of about the size of her hand at the bottom of it.

"Oh," she breathes out, surprised to feel her eyes stinging as her vision blurs a little.

"Are you alright, mum?" Harry asks worriedly, shuffling closer to her. "I'm sorry," he says, horrified when he sees that her eyes are tearing up. "Don't cry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Reining back in her wayward emotions, Lily laughs tearfully, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair kindly. "It's fine, Harry. Don't worry. I just got something in my eyes, it's okay."

Harry looks at her with suspicion, but he eventually settles down in relief. "Alright. But if you don't want to write it's fine, we can just cut the pieces away."

"Ah, no. I think-I think that I'd like to add a few lines to your letter," Lily replies, surprising herself with how much she actually likes the idea. "It's a great idea, Harry. Thank you."

Harry preens, the gesture oddly reminiscent of the way James used to show his pride – though he doesn't run a hand through his hair like his father used to – and for once, it doesn't even hurt, just make her smile.

"Let's do the card first, though. That way I have some time to think on what to write."

Harry nods, and reaches for the paints and brushes Lily had taken out earlier. There's also a glass of water to rinse the brushes, and a plain white dish on which Harry gleefully presses every color he can find.

"So, what are we doing this year?" Lily asks as she grabs a brush for herself.

Harry's forehead furrows in thoughts, but eventually he figures it out. "I want to do us playing Quidditch," he says. "You and me and dad," he adds, feeling a little sad. He doesn't mention that the idea comes from a dream he had a couple of nights ago, but he thinks his mother knows it anyway.

"Alright," Lily smiles. "Do you want to do the people of the background?"

Harry looks at her incredulously. "The people, duh," he answers, and Lily guesses she deserved that.

It's another part of their tradition, after all: Harry picks a scene to paint, and then he does the people or animals there while Lily works on the background. It usually gets them some very _creative_ results, but at least they're unique.

In contrast with Harry's earlier chatter as he wrote, he's silent when he paints, though he sometimes asks her if he should use one color or another for the human-shaped things floating on broomsticks. She thinks of what she could add to Harry's letters, and all that comes is the number of ways she can tell him he'd be proud of their son.

It'll have to do she guesses, and anyway, it's not like she doesn't talk to James all the time, in her own way.

They finish all too soon in her opinion, and with a wink she 'cheats' and uses magic to dry the paper.

 _(it always makes Harry laugh, when she uses her magic for little things when she said they shouldn't use it – it makes magic feel like a reward and a miraculous thing, and that's the way she believes everyone should always think of magic)_

"When are we going to give it to dad?" he asks as she clears up once they're done.

"Tomorrow, maybe," Lily muses. "Unless you'd rather go tonight."

Harry looks torn instead of the pout she'd expected. "Can we still go out trick or treating if we go out tonight?"

Despite herself, Lily laughs. "Are you sure you need any more sugar?"

"Mu-um," Harry pleads, eyes wide open as they turn to her. "Come on, you said we could."

"Alright, alright, we can go trick or treating afterwards," Lily replies, smiling.

Harry cheers.


	10. Looking Out For You

Written for the prompt: A mother mothering someone else's child.

 _Word count:_ 2369

 **Looking Out For You**

"Thank you again for agreeing to look after my grandson, Mrs. Potter," the Longbottom matriarch says as she and said grandson step out of the fireplace. She keeps both hands on Neville's shoulders, and the boy looks as shy and terrified as he always does when his grandmother drops him off, though Lily guesses that at that age she wouldn't have been fond of Floo travel either.

"I'm always happy to look after Neville, you know that," Lily replies, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Her relationship with the old witch is not familiar enough for that, even though she has been leaving her grandson in Lily's care for a few hours every few weeks since Alice and Frank were tortured to insanity.

(Lily had thrown up when she had learnt that – she had thought James' and her fates had been the worst this war could bring, and to have been proven wrong in such a horrible manner had been a heavy blow)

"And you should call me Lily, really," she tries once again, even though she knows the other witch will never agree to it.

And sure enough, the woman merely purses her lips as she replies, "It wouldn't be proper. Now go, Neville, or I'll be late for my meeting."

The poor boy shuffles away awkwardly under his grandmother's harsh eyes, and Lily holds back a sigh. She hates this – hates the way there is nothing she can do about the relationship between Neville and his grandmother (she's tried so many times already, but nothing ever changed) – but there isn't much she can do but be kinder to the boy than his family is.

Not that the old witch doesn't love her grandson – Lily knows she does, but she also just wishes the older woman was better as expressing it and showing support to this boy who clearly needs it.

"I'll pick him up tomorrow at noon," Mrs. Longbottom informs Lily once again, before turning to her grandson. "Neville, I want you to be on your best behavior for Mrs. Potter, is that understood?"

If Lily hadn't known the witch for as long as she had, she'd never have caught the minute way her voice softened a little. Even so, though, she's not quite sure she didn't just imagine it.

"Of course , grandmother," Neville mutters, head ducked shyly.

Neville's grandmother sighs, a sound that causes Neville to flinch a little and draw back even further into himself, and bids her grandson goodbye, a feeling echoed somewhat more quietly by said grandson before the imposing woman steps back through the green flames.

Immediately, it feels as though a weight has been lifted off Lily's shoulders, liked the atmosphere itself is lighter somewhat. Even Neville, though he still looks as shy as always, stands up a little straighter.

Holding back a sigh she knows would only make things worse, Lily smiles at the boy even as in her mind she starts plotting how to talk to Augusta Longbottom about her grandson once again.

"Harry's in his room," she tells him kindly when she sees that the boy is still standing there awkwardly, and she's rewarded by a bright flash of a smile as the boy thanks her and stumble off toward Harry's room.

She'll let them be for a few moments before checking in on them, she decides. Somehow, even after years of coming over for these semi-regular playdates, Neville is still uneasy around her.

At least he has no such trouble around Harry though – at least not anymore. He went through a phase, a couple years ago (she suspects it was when one of his so-called relatives, curse them, decided he must be a squib, like that was anything shameful to be) where her son intimidated him, but thankful that passed quickly.

Some time with Harry will drag him out of his shell, and then she can ask them if they'd like to do something in particular for the rest of the afternoon.

 **.x.**

She was right, as usual. The Neville that emerges from Harry's room half an hour letter, when she bribes them with cookies and milk for a snack, is almost a completely different person. She's used to this by now, but it still strikes her every time, this way Neville had to turn from this shy boy unable to look you in the eyes to the playful boy that stands by her son's side and chatters with him about the new plants in his greenhouse.

If only his family could see him now, she thinks fondly as Neville flails and laughs when Harry points at the milky moustache his drink left one his face, though her son is quick to join in the fun and get a moustache of his own.

"Now, now, boys, settle down." She almost regrets having to interrupt them, though the wide-eyed and innocent looks she gets in return are so adorable they would melt anyone's heart (not that she believes the innocent part, because her son, for all his gifts, is also a gifted trouble-maker who doesn't know when to quit), but she knows better than to let them keep playing with their food this way.

She had done it once, and never again – somehow, even with magic it had taken her hours to clean up everything after the resulting food fight.

They pout a little, but eventually obey.

"So, any plans you have for the rest of the afternoon?" Lily asks them, enjoying the way they suddenly seem to hold a silent conversation before turning back to her.

"Can we play outside?" Neville asks timidly, and Lily can't help but smile back.

"Of course! You know," she adds in a tone of confidence that makes Harry squirm embarrassedly, "it's usually very hard to get this one," she points at Harry with a wink, "to go outside usually – unless there's Quidditch or flying involved. I should thank you for that, then."

Neville blushes and mumbles out a "thanks, you're welcome" or something that sounds close to it while Harry tries to protest that Quidditch is different, so of course he'd want to go outside for it.

"Besides," he adds mulishly, though his tone is also kind of wistful, "it's harder to play on my own."

Neville nods understandingly and Lily's heart skips a beat.

"Regardless," she sighs, "it's a beautiful day today, and I'd rather you spent it outside." She smiles encouragingly, and the boys cheer, though Neville is a little more enthusiastic than her son.

As the boys leave the room to grab their shoes and coats, she hears Harry whisper to Neville, "Come on, we could have stayed in my room and played Exploding Snap and stuff!".

To which Neville replies, "But outside we can play dragons and knights and that's way better."

"Ugh, I hate it when you're right," her son's fading voice replies, and Lily stifles a giggle, though pride blooms in her veins at the way Neville stood up to her son for what he believed in.

Lily barely has the time to put on her own shoes and grab her purse and coat before the boys are back again, chattering about – if she understands correctly – their plan of action for their game.

She rolls her eyes when they're not looking but leads them to the park easily, grateful that it isn't far from the apartment. Once the park is in sight, the two boys take off running, and she has to yell at their backs not to go too far.

The park isn't that big, but she still doesn't want to take the chance of something happening to them if they go where she cannot watch over them.

"Yes, mum/Mrs. Potter," the boys yell back, and Lily has to roll her eyes. Boys. They're hopeless sometimes.

Still, she finds a nice sunny spot to sit down on that lets her see almost the whole park, and from there she can keep an eye on the boys' game even as she tries to catch up on some reading.

It is some time later that her head snaps up from her book. At first she isn't quite sure what alarmed her so, but one quick further look where the boys where the last time she checked reveals the cause of her reaction.

She's a bit far to see what happened properly, but she thinks Neville might be crying. He's sitting on the grass, hunched over, Harry hovering worriedly over him, and so Lily hastens to their side, heart in her throat.

"What happened?"

Harry's head snaps up to her face, and to her relief he doesn't look too worried. He seems mostly annoyed at himself and guilty, and Neville himself is no longer crying, though his face does looked pained.

Looking at his knees, it's not hard to figure out why, nor why he hasn't gotten up yet. They're skinned pretty badly, with dirt and grass stuck into the sluggishly bleeding wounds, and trying to bend those knees is going to hurt something fierce.

Lily winces, and kneels at Neville's side, glad she brought a first aid kit with her.

"This might sting a little," she warns as she takes out the disinfectant bottle. Besides her, Harry mouth cheekily 'she's lying, it stings a LOT' and Lily glares at him, mouthing back a 'not helping' that makes him shut up.

Neville hisses but doesn't complain as she cleans the scraps as well and fast as she can. "Aren't you going to use one of those Band-Aid things?" he asks when she's finished and tucks back the bottle into her purse.

To her pride, Harry is the one to answer before she gets the chance to. "Nah, cause the wounds need to dry on their own or they won't heal well," he explains.

"Harry's right," Lily confirms with a smile, reaching out to ruffle her son's hair approvingly. He ducks away the first time but can't evade the time after that, and Neville chuckles at the sight, only to squeal a little when he finds himself in the same position as Harry.

"I think that's enough excitement for today, however," she finally says. "Why don't we go home?"

Harry nods enthusiastically, but Neville grimaces. "Can you get up?" Lily asks him softly.

Neville hesitates for a few moments before he starts to get up. He gets almost halfway there before Lily stops him – it's painful too see, and his skinned knees have started bleeding again.

"Stop," she orders. "We'll do this another way."

Harry lightens up as he understands, though Neville just look slightly apprehensive. Lily sizes him up, before deciding that even if he's still young, there's no way she'll be able to carry him all the way back to the apartment without a little help.

She leans back toward him, kneeling, and offers him her back. "Come on now, hop on."

She can't see his face, but she can feel the doubt radiating from him. Before her, Harry rolls his eyes in a move that echoes hers, before he says, "Yeah, come on Nev', it's my mum, you know she's the best."

It takes some more prompting and reassurances from the both of them, but finally she feels Neville move closer, his arms hooking up around her neck while his legs come to rest against her waist.

Getting up is a bit of a challenge, though Harry's cheering as Neville's soft hair pressed tight against her shoulder do help quite a bit, even before she manages to sneakily cast a Lightening Charm on the boy on her back.

After that, the walk back is easy, though she makes sure they're not going too fast as to not jolt Neville's injuries too much. Every pained gasp her lets out against her ears are a stab to the heart, and she cannot wait for them to get back home where she'll be able to use magic to sort out this injury.

When they get to the door, it feels like deliverance. She lets Harry open it, as both her hands are taken with keeping hold of Neville's legs.

"Can you go grab my potions' kit?" she asks her son as soon as they get in, and Harry rushes off with only a nod and a concerned look Neville's way.

Meanwhile, she settles Neville on the sofa. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he answers, sounding somewhat puzzled. "It's really not that bad, you know. I could have walked back home, you didn't need to trouble yourself and-"

Lily cuts him off there, eyes kind but voice firm. "It was no trouble at all," she assures him.

She's saved from trying to think of what else to say as Harry comes running back in with her potions' kit. She doesn't even think to scold him for that as she grabs what she needs and quickly prepares the paste that will heal those nasty scrapes.

Neville shivers when she applies it, as she had known he would since the paste is somehow really cold, but he immediately relaxes, and the pain on his face smoothes out until it is entirely gone.

When she scraps away at what remains of the now hardened paste, his knees are completely healed, though the new skin still looks a bit red.

And then, because he looks like he needs it, she presses a soft kiss on top of his hair, before she leaves to wash her hands.

Or at least, she tries to – a small hand snatches her sleeve before she can leave, and when she looks back Neville is smiling tearfully at her as he thanks her.

"You don't need to thank me," she replies, and ruffles his hair once again. The sudden shine in his eyes is all the warning she gets before a small body collides with her, and her arms wrap around him in reflex.

She hugs him tighter, and when he shows no sign of letting go she just sighs, resigned.

Harry joins them not long after, turning this into a group hug, and Lily realizes that has never felt better, nor any warmer, than she does now, with those two boys by her side.


	11. Birthday Party

Written for the prompt: A woman celebrating with her child.

 _Word count:_ 1655

 **Birthday Party**

"So, how does it feel to be eleven?" Dudley asks with a teasing smile when he steps into the living-room where Harry is welcoming the guests to is party.

Harry scowls for a few seconds before pouting. "I don't actually feel any different."

Dudley laughs. "Well, happy birthday anyway."

"Thanks," he replies before all air rushes out of his lungs as a small body collides with him. "Hi, Rose," he says amusedly as his youngest cousin seems to try to hug the life out of him. For a girl so young, she has quite the grip.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Rose says brightly. "Did you get your Hogwarts letter yet?" she asks, practically vibrating in her excitement.

"It's nice to see that you were worried about my health," Harry teases while Dudley laughs as his little sister blushes.

"Don't bother, she's been like this all week – I think she really wants to see a real Hogwarts letter," Dudley explains.

"It's not fair that I have to wait 'til I'm eleven," she pouts, before focusing her pleading eyes on Harry. "So, come on, did you get your letter?"

"Of course I did," Harry replies proudly.

"Well, show me, show me!" As Harry does so, she squeals in excitement, causing both Harry and Dudley to wince at the shrill sound, before she half-collapse, half-sits on the sofa, letter still clutched in her hands. "You're so lucky you get to go now," she pouts, and Harry laughs again.

"Don't worry, it'll come soon enough," Harry reassures her, and after a few minutes of bargaining, he gets his letter back and puts it away.

He just has time to tell them to sit and make themselves at ease – not that they're having any problem with that, but he was raised to be polite with guests – before their chimney flares up green and a first Weasley stumbles out of it.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Ginny greets him with a bright smile and a wave, and Harry finds himself blushing and voiceless as he struggles to find the right words the welcome her.

She looks like a princess, he thinks, what with her green dress that makes her eyes and hair look brighter. Her hair is pulled back with two tresses circling her head, and it looks like a crown.

Of course he can't tell her that she looks like a princess – if anything, Ginny would want to be a knight, because 'princesses are always useless in the stories'. Still, it's what he thinks.

Thankfully, his mother emerges from the kitchen just then, and takes over so that he can find his words. The knowing look she sends his way is embarrassing though.

"Welcome, Ginny," she says to the young witch, "but I believe you might want to step away from the fire so your family can come through as well."

"Oh, right," Ginny stammers, blushing down to the roots of her hair as she steps aside.

Not a moment too soon too, because as soon as she does so, the fire flares up again, and out comes Ron, who barely has the time to say a "Happy birthday" before the twins crash into him as they exit the fire.

Percy is next, sneering at the scene Harry is trying very hard not to laugh at, and then the fire flares up one last time and Mrs. Weasley appears.

"Honestly, boys," she scolds the tangled pile her sons are still in on the ground, before turning to Lily. "I'm very sorry about that, Lily. Fred, George! Let your brother go, and stop this nonsense at once! You're being rude to Mrs. Potter," she snaps, head whirling toward her sons, eyebrows cast in a truly fearsome frown.

"Don't worry about it, Molly. Boys will be boys," Lily reassures her. She then waves her wand and silently vanishes as the soot the three boys had been spreading over the floor.

Reluctantly, the boys get up and apologize shamefully to Lily under their mother's watchful eyes, before turning to Harry.

"Happy birthday Harrykins!" Fred and George say, bowing extravagantly and, to Harry's greatest exasperation, ruffling his hair.

"Honestly, why is everyone so obsessed with my hair?" He grumbles, following as the Weasleys stumble into the living-room.

"It's _magical_ ," Ron discloses in a whisper, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I mean, it still looks the same," he chortles.

Harry scowls and pats his hair down. "See if I ever help you against them again," he replies nastily, though for some reason that only makes Ron laugh more.

This does make them the last to enter the living-room, where Harry is treated to the terrifying sight of Rose exchanging happily with the twins as Dudley looks on with the same dread Harry feeling right now.

Aunt Petunia is going to kill me for this, Harry thinks as a shiver runs down his spine when Rose screams with glee at something Fred (or is it George?) tells her.

"Harry, dear, Neville should be getting here any minute now? Could you greet him? I have to get back to the kitchen," Lily shouts from the other side of the room.

Harry rolls his eyes where she can't see, but accepts readily enough, glad for the excuse to escape from the plotting in progress.

Neville is stumbling out of the fire the moment he enters the room.

"Happy birthday," they say at the same time, which makes them laugh.

"Your grandmother isn't with you?" Harry asks as they walk toward the others.

"No," Neville answers. "She said I could come on my own this time," he adds proudly, and Harry smiles happily at him.

"That's great! Now come on, you're the last one to get there so now we can start the party!" Harry explains, tugging at Neville's sleeve to make him hurry. "You can give leave the gift by the table like everyone did," he adds, a little embarrassed, when he sees that Neville is trying to hide said package behind his back.

 **.x.**

As she watches the gathered crowd, Lily realizes that she has never been more thankful for extension charms. Without them, both the table and the room would have been way too crowded, whereas now they all fit with room to spare.

"Thank you for coming to help," she tells Molly.

The older woman waves her off. "It was the least I could do, really. Besides, you and Harry are practically family by now, we couldn't very well miss his eleventh birthday."

"Still. I don't think I'd have managed to feed all these hellions on my own," she jokes.

"Pish posh. I'm sure you'd have done a wonderful job."

Lily hums, but she can see that Molly is set on this. "Shall we head back in?" she asks instead, gesturing with her head to the kids who are craning their necks to see when the cake is coming their way.

"Probably," Molly replies, and with a wave of her wand she shuts down the lights. They share a smile at the 'oh's of wonder that come from the children, and Lily lights the candles on the treacle tart Molly brought for the occasion, as well as on Neville's chocolate cake. Two more cakes float before them as they leave the kitchen.

The moment they enter the room everyone starts singing, and once they stop the boys blow the candles out.

The atmosphere is light and happy as they all dive into the desserts, and it seems like they vanish in an instant. Soon enough, even the crumbs are gone, though the kids look sated at last.

Lily is the first one to hand her son a gift. "Merlin, I can't believe you're already eleven! Seems like just yesterday you were a baby, stumbling around as you learned to walk…" she reminisces fondly.

Harry flushes brightly, ducking his head down into his arms as he moans, "Mum, come on!"

From each of his sides, Dudley and Ron reach out and pat him on the back in commiseration.

"You should just learn to roll with it," Fred suggests not so helpfully, his twin nodding along. "It's what we do, and it works great."

Harry rolls his eyes at them. "Thanks guys," he replies dryly. "Great advice."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Ron asks indignantly from Harry's right.

"Obviously Harry's their favorite brother," Rose joins in, making Dudley facepalm and Ron gape at her.

"He's not even their brother," they protest simultaneously, though Dudley sounds more incredulous than Ron.

Harry just blushes.

"So what did you get?" Ginny asks curiously, cutting nicely through the awkwardness.

Startled, Harry looks down to his still unopened gift, before looking up sheepishly toward his mother, who's watching him with a knowing smirk.

'Go on,' she gestures, and so Harry breaks the seal to the envelope she gave him open. And promptly has to hold back a scream.

"I'm guessing you like it then?" Lily asks, as her son's friends lean over his shoulders to see what it's all about, and promptly whistle, impressed.

"Mum, this is awesome!" Harry replies after some long seconds of being voiceless. "Thank you so much! How did you know I wanted to go?"

Lily smiles fondly. "You might have mentioned it a few times," she says, amused as her son flushes again.

Harry sets the tickets to the Quidditch match between England and Bulgaria down reverently next to his plate. For the rest of the time they spend opening gifts, his fingers regularly come to hover over them like he can't quite believe they're still there.

And even when they leave the table, he still looks their way every few moments.

"Man, your mum is awesome," Ron whispers. His eyes are as wide as Harry's and shine with the same wonder.

"I know," Harry replies proudly, smiling. "She's the best."

And then, after a moment of silence, "Do you think I could come with?"

Harry only laughs.


	12. Shopping Trip

Written for the prompt: A mother and her child out shopping together.

 _Word count:_ 1413

 **Shopping Trip**

This isn't the first time they come to visit Diagon's Alley, but Harry's eyes still widen in awe when they step out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the Alley itself.

"So, where to first?" Lily asks her son when he makes no move to stop gawking at everything.

Beside her, Sirius snorts and rests a hand on Harry's shoulder. "What kind of question is that? We're going to check out the Quidditch equipment first, of course."

"Oh, mum, can we?" Harry asks, perking up and turning pleading eyes toward his mother.

She glares at Sirius. "Maybe later, once we're done with your actual Hogwarts shopping, since _for some reason_ first years aren't allowed their own brooms," she states, looking pointedly at the animagus. On her other side, Remus stifles his laughter in a coughing fit that fools exactly no one.

Sirius laughs nervously. "How were we supposed to know that we weren't supposed to use our brooms to get to the flying lessons? I mean, the class schedule said, 'flying lessons, bring your brooms'. Well, we brought our brooms. What else were we supposed to do?"

"He has a point," Remus interjects not-so-helpfully, causing Lily to stare at him incredulously as Harry giggles.

"Basically anything else?! Like how could you even think that flying your brooms indoors would end in anything but disaster?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Sirius mumbles, though his eyes are fond.

"And that, Harry," Remus intervenes, "is why you shouldn't listen to your Uncle Padfoot's ideas-"

"Thank you, Remus," Lily says thankfully, mentally taking back everything she had thought against him.

"-when it comes to schoolwork," he adds.

"When it comes to anything he tells you to do," Lily corrects, glaring at the two laughing Marauders who are still trying to corrupt her son.

"Got it," Harry nods, smiling brightly at the three adults. "Don't get caught, right?"

"No, Harry," Lily replies despairingly as the two men laugh. "This is your fault," she hisses dangerously at them, " _fix it_."

"So I should get caught then?" Harry asks, tilting his head to the right as if he's considering the thing.

This only makes Sirius laugh louder, though Remus at least as the foresight to hide his own mirth in another coughing fit that is just as convincing than the last one.

"No," Lily replies dryly, "what you should do is not do anything that could cause you to end up in the kind of situation where you might 'get caught'."

"But that wouldn't be any fun," he pouts.

"I give up," she declares, throwing her arms in the air. "Perhaps a few nights in detention cleaning cauldrons will help you reconsider."

"It's all in the elbows," Sirius whispers laughingly to Harry, but Lily is rewarded to see that her son now looks like he's reconsidering his options.

It probably won't last forever, giving his penchant for getting in trouble – something that he certainly didn't inherit from her – but it's better than nothing.

"So, where to now?" she asks again, trying to change the subject.

"Shouldn't we go to Gringotts?" Harry asks eagerly.

"You just want to ride the wagons again, don't you?" Lily realizes, smiling fondly.

Sirius blanches and Remus laughs. "They are quite something," the werewolf agrees.

Harry nods. "Yeah, they're even better than the muggle rollercoasters mum took us to last summer! Rumor is, there are real dragons down there," he adds, eyes twinkling brightly with excitement.

"There are," Sirius confirms, though he still looks uneasy. "But you have to go really far down for those."

Harry's head whips to the side as he stares pleadingly at his godfather. "Oh, can we?"

Remus chuckles and Lily finally takes pity on the animagus. "Maybe another time. We're on a schedule, and besides, I already withdraw enough money for this trip."

Harry pouts. "Alright. Then…" His eyes suddenly light up as he realizes exactly what Lily was waiting for him to. "My wand," he breathes out, suddenly practically vibrating with excitement. "We can go get my wand!"

"Well, unless you'd rather do something else first…" She teases.

Harry looks at her incredulously, grabbing her sleeve and starting to drag her toward Ollivander's. "That's not funny mum, come on! Hurry up!"

Lily laughs, but she follows. Soon enough, Harry's pushing open the door to the wand shop, Lily, Sirius and Remus close behind.

The shop hasn't changed since Lily last came here, eleven herself. It has the same dusty smell as she remembers, the same – or so it seems - rays of sunlight highlighting rows upon rows of small boxes containing wands.

Even Ollivander himself hasn't changed much. Apart from less hair at his temples and a few more wrinkles, he looks like he stepped right out of her memories. From the way Sirius and Remus freeze for an instant as the man appears before them, she's not the only one to think so.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I was expecting you," Ollivander says, voice sending shivers down Lily's spine. He looks almost apologetic as he trails one finger down Harry's scar, and Lily's stomach rolls uneasily until she snaps and bats the finger away none too gently.

"That's enough," she bites dangerously. "We came here to buy my son's wand, not to hear you reminisce about who you sold your wands to," she continues in the same tone, eyes narrowed. "We can always take our business elsewhere, after all."

"Mum," Harry protests, though he does look uneasy.

"No, Harry, I won't budge on this," Lily replies, still glaring at the old wandmaker.

Ollivander sighs, but he does apologizes. "Well then, let's see which of these will agree to work with you…"

What follows is pure pandemonium. Wands pile up on the man's desk as Harry waves one after the other. Ollivander looks more and more gleeful as each wands refuses to work for Harry – sometimes dangerously so, as the three other adults in the room have had too duck countless times – and even Harry does look like he's having fun, to Lily's utter despair.

"He gets it from James, I think," Remus whispers at some point, when they're ducking a particularly vicious looking yellow something being spat out of Harry's latest try and Harry only laughs at this.

"Of all the things to inherit," Lily whispers back in mock-protest, rolling her eyes fondly.

Finally, everything calms down as Harry grabs Ollivander's latest offered wand. Lily knows it's the right one before Harry says it – it's not even the fact that nothing explodes or fizzles this time. Rather, it's how Harry's eyes suddenly widen in surprise before bliss settles on his face.

"How much?" Lily asks, interrupting Ollivander who looks like he's about to go on another of his inappropriate rants.

"Seven galleons," he answers, startled.

"But Mrs. Potter," Ollivander starts once they're about to exit the shop. Silently, Lily motions at Sirius and Remus to go ahead with Harry, who is still cradling his wand to his chest. "You have to know that is no ordinary wand."

"How so?" Lily asks, eyes narrow.

"The phoenix who gave me that feather, the one in this wand, gave me another that I used decades ago."

"And?"

"That feather belongs to the wand that gave him his scar," he states ominously, before adding more about Harry's potential for terrible and great things.

Those words cause a cold shiver to run down her spine. The air feels different now, tastes different.

A storm is coming, she thinks as she rejoins with her son and his party.

A storm is coming, she thinks as she rejoins with her son and his party.

 _You won't take away my son_ , she swears to it. _No matter who or what you are, you don't get to have him_.

Harry laughs at something Sirius says, and Lily puts the thoughts away, ruffling her son's hair and delighting in the way that makes him squeal.

"Where to next?"

"Well, it says here," Harry says timidly, pointing at the list he's holding, "that I can get a pet – and if I had an owl, I could send you letters?"

Lily's heart warms, and she smiles. "Of course. Let's go then."

"Yay!" Harry cheers, and he takes off running, Sirius close behind.

"Are you alright?" Remus asks her as they follow at a more sedate pace.

"I'm fine," Lily replies. And she is – as long as her son is happy, and safe, she will be fine.


	13. Alone

Written for the prompt: The day in the life of a single mother.

 _Word count:_ 1692

 **Alone**

It feels odd, to wake up and not hear Harry's feet scuttling through the corridors toward the kitchen, to know that his bedroom is empty right now, and will be so until Christmas.

She hadn't really missed his presence so acutely during the week, as she had had work to keep busy, taking advantage of the fact that no one was waiting for her to get a little more work done. Still, not having Harry to greet her when she finished her day had been difficult, though she's now beginning to understand that it's nothing compared to the emptiness that echoes on a week-end.

It is harder too, to get up when no one is waiting for her. This is the first free day she has all to herself, and after eleven years spent raising Harry–nine of which she was mostly alone for (and thank Merlin for all the help she got from her friends, or she wouldn't have managed nearly as well)—she feels like a quiet morning spent lazing about in bed is the least she deserves.

She lasts five minutes before her limbs start itching with the need to get moving. She pulls her hair in a messy bun and drags her feet to the kitchen, where she starts making coffee. Harry's cereals are still there—she hasn't had the heart to put them away since Harry took the Hogwarts' Express, and has instead let it sit on the counter, right where Harry would leave it so he could easily reach it.

It is easy for her to reach them too, and before she realizes what she's doing, she's sneaked her hand into the bag and taken out a handful of cereals that she stuffs in her mouth.

They are disgusting—too sugary by half for her taste, and kind of grow to the consistency of rubber as she chews, possibly because they have been left alone for too long—and yet she cannot stop eating them absently as she waits for her coffee to brew.

(she remembers the days where tea had been enough to wake her up fondly, even though those days are long gone now—turns out, getting a kid does **great** things to your sleeping habits)

Her eyes catch on the drawings pinned to the fridge. There aren't exactly many of them, as a great artist her is not, but still enough that she can see how his skills have evolved over the years. Harry blushes terribly every time someone sees those drawings, and Lily isn't ashamed to admit that it's half the reason why she keeps them where everyone can see them.

The other half is harder to express. Mostly, she doesn't want to part with those remnants of her son's childhood until she absolutely has to. It passes by so fast already, there is no need for her to make it faster still.

Finally, her coffee is ready. She pours it into the ' _Best Mother_ ' mug Harry had gifted her with two years ago—it's her favorite—and tries to wash the sugar taste away. It works somewhat, though she's sure she'll remember it for a while.

The truth of the matter downs on her a couple of hours later, as she finds herself dusting the shelves, by hand, for the second time already. She tried reading, but after a while spent staring at the same couple of sentences she had realized that she just hadn't been in the mood for that.

She is bored. Without Harry around, she feels aimless, lost even. It's like she a boat someone left unmoored, drifting away toward some great unknown.

They had talked about this, with James—about what it might be like to have the house to themselves again once the kids where gone to Hogwarts. Because yes, back then the plan had been to have _kids_ , plural.

(sometimes she still wonders what that would have been like, to have more than one little monster running around the house, getting into everything)

Of course, back then James had been included in every plan they made. It had been unconceivable, to think that they'd end up separated by something as permanent as death. She hadn't really thought about this lately, hadn't realized that Harry being gone would mean that she'd be alone.

She had known, but she hadn't _realized_ it would hurt quite this much.

Lily isn't quite sure how she ends up staring at her fireplace, or rather at the small pot of Floo Powder on top of it, but it happens. Molly's voice echoes in her head, the words said when they had escorted their kids to the Hogwarts' Express now taking on another meaning.

"Don't be a stranger," the older witch had said kindly before they had parted ways, she corralling her youngest daughter back home, Lily heading back to her apartment to clear up the mess left by Harry's last minute realization that he had forgotten to put a few things in his trunk and subsequent turning over of their home to find them.

Then, Lily had taken it to mean that Molly wanted Lily to keep visiting, but what if there was more to it than that?

Decision made, she reaches for the Powder. Two words and some truly dizzy moments, and she stumbles out of a familiar chimney and into The Burrow.

"Molly? Are you there?" she calls out, suddenly feeling a little awkward at having basically invited herself into the other woman's home.

She doesn't have to wait long. Molly looks a little frazzled as she steps into the room, but she talks with the same enthusiasm as always when she escorts Lily into the house proper.

"How are you dear? And don't worry about coming in unannounced," she adds, anticipating Lily's apology in a way that makes the green-eyed witch wonder if her mind isn't being read, "Arthur and I had you keyed into our Floo system years ago, and you know you're always welcome here."

Lily smiles gratefully. "Still, I should have sent you an owl."

"And done what, exactly, as you waited for an answer to get back? No, Lily-dear, this is really no trouble. Besides, the house is too quiet with just Ginny and I, we'll welcome your company any day. Ah," Molly says, reading Lily's light flinch knowingly, "so this is what this visit is about…"

Lily deflates as she sits on Molly's sofa. "I just-I hadn't expected it to feel so empty, you know?"

To her relief, Molly does nod like she understands, and with seven kids herself—six of whom already went to Hogwarts—Lily guesses she'd know better than anyone.

"It's too quiet, isn't it? The Burrow doesn't feel quite like home when the kids aren't there, making mischief—but don't tell them I said that, especially the twins! Merlin knows they don't need any more encouragement," she laughs.

Lily laughs too. "Don't worry, they won't hear it from me." She stays quiet for a few moments, breathing in the quiet and warm atmosphere that is much less stifling than the one back at her place. "So…" she says, unsure of how exactly to voice her thoughts, "What do you do without the kids around?"

Molly pats her knee reassuringly. "Well, you can take on a hobby. I started knitting when I was pregnant the first time, you know, but it's great to pass the time now, when my days are less busy. I take care of the garden, listens to the radio…" She shrugs. "The days pass by faster than you'd think, really—they'll be back before you know it, you'll see."

Lily nods thankfully. "Thanks, I really do appreciate this."

"You're welcome, Lily. And anytime I can help is my genuine pleasure. Now why don't you stay for lunch? Ginny and I were about to start on the food, she should be about done cleaning up by now."

Lily startles, touched by the offer. "If it's not any bother."

Molly rolls her eyes. "I told you, the more the merrier. You should stay. Ginny misses her siblings-"

"-and Harry too, I'd wager," Lily adds dryly, smirking knowingly at the older witch, who smirks back.

"-and Harry too, yes," Molly agrees, smiling. "She'll enjoy some company that's not her mother's for a little while."

"Well then, let's see how I can help you both out," Lily relents, rolling back her sleeves.

The day passes by surprisingly quickly after that, and it turns out to be exactly what she needed to feel better too.

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner too?" Molly asks when night starts to fall. "We'd be glad to have you, and I know Arthur would love to see you."

"No, thank you," Lily refuses kindly. "I think I've abused of your kindness enough for one day," she jokes.

Molly rolls her eyes. "Well, feel free to 'abuse of our kindness' whenever you want to."

"Thanks," Lily laughs. "I will then," she promises as she steps into the fireplace.

She says her goodbyes and then lets the fire take her away. The trip feels smoother somehow this time around, and when she steps back in her own home she feels lighter.

"Take on a hobby, uh?" She wonders aloud, eyes roaming over the empty room. "Well, why not?"

She'll deal with what to choose another day though. She's knackered—the afternoon spent with Ginny and Molly has worn out surprisingly effectively. She's not particularly hungry, no is she in the mood for something complicated, not after what she ate at lunch, so she just fixes herself a light salad and plops down on her sofa.

A wave of her wand has music playing softly as she eats, and once she's done she just closes her eyes and enjoys the quiet.

She stays like this until she decides it's time to sleep—she does have an early day tomorrow, after all—and as she falls asleep, she wonders if she'll get a letter from Harry tomorrow.

Hopefully, the answer to that is yes. But if not, well, nothing stops her from writing first, does it?


	14. Asking for Advice

Thanks everyone for your support, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it probably was my favorite to write.

Written for the prompt: A mother offering advice to her child.

 _Word count:_ 1543

 **Asking for Advice**

"Harry?" Lily asks, surprised as she finds her son waiting for her when she gets home from grocery shopping. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrow even as she embraces him. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, shouldn't you be at school right now?"

Harry only laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair as he pulls back from the hug. "Don't worry, Ron and Hermione are covering for me. Besides, as a Champion I technically can skip classes, remember?"

Lily scowls at the reminder, but she can't deny that fact. "I can't believe you dragged that poor girl into your shenanigans. Honestly, Harry, didn't I teach you better?"

Her son just laughs. "You know we can't drag Hermione into anything—if anything, she's the one to drag us with her."

Lily sends him a doubtful look. "Yes, just like I'm sure you never get in trouble, _ever_ ," she drawls, and Harry has the decency to look sheepish, as he should. She does, after all, get his report cards. "And I'd better not here that you're skipping class regularly just because you have an excuse now," she continues, staring pointedly at him. "After all, you do need your education."

"Yes, mum," Harry replies, amusement clear in his eyes.

"Cheeky brat," Lily replies fondly. "Now just give me a moment to put these-" here she gestures at the bags she's still carrying (she's starting to regret deciding to do her grocery shopping the muggle way, but it had seemed like a good way to pass the time at first), "-away, and then you can tell me all about whatever it is you've left Hogwarts behind for."

Harry starts. "Oh, do you want me to help?"

"No need," Lily says with a smile. "Your mother may be getting old, but she's not quite that useless yet, I'll have you know," she adds teasingly, and with a quick Alohomora she opens the kitchen's door. Two spells later and the groceries are sorting themselves out, and she sighs happily before turning back to her son. They sit down on the sofa almost simultaneously, though on Harry's part it's more of a controlled drop.

"You're not old," he sputters out.

"Thank you, dear," she laughs, pinching his cheek before reaching to ruffle his hair. The surprised 'squeek' sound he makes is one she'll never get tired of, and the same goes for the "Mum!" he says in protest as he tries to get his hair to lay flat.

"Don't bother," she tells him dryly. "You know that hair of yours will look the same no matter what you do."

He pouts, looking so much like he had as a seven year-old boy that Lily has to laugh.

"Why couldn't I get _your_ hair instead of dad's?" Harry moans. "At least yours behaves."

"Ah, the mysteries of genetics," Lily snorts. "Besides, don't knock it off, it makes you look very handsome."

"Mum!" Harry blushes.

"What? You are—my little boy, all grown up," she says, wiping mock tears from under her eyes before sobering up. "But joking aside, why are you here?"

Harry suddenly looks very awkward, his cheeks reddening. "Err, there'saBallandIkindofwantedtoaskyouhowIshouldagirlout?"

Lily just stares. "Maybe try that again, a little bit slower this time too," she states dryly.

Harry flushes again. "Well, there's this Ball—the Yule Ball actually—and us Champions have to open it, so we need a date, and I wanted to know if…"

"If I could help you ask a girl? Anyone in particular you have in mind," she teases, delighting in the way Harry's cheeks only flush more.

"Well, that and, err, I was wondering… How did dad get you to agree to going out with him?"

Lily laughs, casting her mind back fondly. "Well, he pretty much spent five years trying to wear me down. But don't worry, I'm sure you won't have that problem—your father was kind of a jerk when he was your age, so you're already doing much better than he did on that front."

"Thanks, mum," he replies dryly, "but that doesn't really help me much."

"I guess not," Lily shrugs, smiling. "But you're not your father, and Ginny—at least I'm guessing you're talking about Ginny—isn't me either."

Harry looks so fond when she says Ginny's name that it kind of steals the breath right of her chest. "Yeah, I was talking about her… Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Harry, that girl's been half in love with you since she was five and you let her be the dragon when her brothers wouldn't. Of course she'll say yes."

"You really think so?"

" _Yes_ ," Lily replies, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Trust me: you be kind to her and you ask her nicely—maybe with some flowers or something, if you really want to make a good impression—and she'll say yes. I'm betting she's even waiting for you to ask her now," Lily continues.

"Hermione did say that," Harry mutters softly, lost in thought.

"Well you should listen to her. Clearly, that girl's the brains of this operation," Lily teases. "By the way, did Ronald finally wise up and ask her to this Ball?"

Harry winces. "Ah, not exactly? Well, kinda… It was painful to watch, honestly—he just sort of said 'oh, Hermione, you're a girl, why don't we go together', and then Hermione said she already had a date, and yeah, things have been tense between them since then."

Ah, the wonders of teenage drama. How Lily doesn't miss it.

"And Neville?" she asks curiously. Her son rarely volunteers so much information about his daily life at Hogwarts—no doubt still afraid he'd slip and reveal all the dangerous stuff he gets up to there (honestly, just thinking about the Basilisk is enough to give her nightmares, never mind that her son escaped unscathed)—so when he does she always jumps at the chance. "How is he doing?"

To her surprise, Harry sighs a little mournfully. "He's fine. He's going to the Ball with Luna," he adds dejectedly, and something in Lily's mind goes _oh_.

Well, looks like her son does still need a little bit more motherly advice after all.

"You know," she starts carefully, "you could always ask him for a dance once you're at the Ball. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Harry's blush makes a swift comeback as he sputters out a, "But we'll have dates! And I _like_ Ginny!"

This time, Lily does roll her eyes, though the gesture is fond.

"Of course you do. But nobody ever said you couldn't like more than one people at once-"

"-actually, that's pretty much the one thing everyone agrees on," Harry tries to protest.

"-then clearly they don't know what they're talking about," Lily corrects him. "As long as you all agree on the same thing, I don't see why there should be a problem. Besides, it's a dance, not marriage, and you'd hardly be the first to do such a thing. Why, your father and I we-"

"Mum!" Harry shrieks, horrified. "I don't want to know what you and dad were getting up to, _please_."

"Are you sure?" Lily replies, cackling inwardly. "Because I could tell you about the time we asked-"

"Yes," Harry cries out fervently. "Is this punishment for skipping class? It feels like punishment. Please don't, I'll go back, I will never skip a single hour, no, a single minute of class, not ever again. Just, please, _stop talking_ ," he asks, eyes wide in horror, hands clasped tightly over his ears.

Lily laughs. "Fine, fine. Just get back to school already."

Harry blinks, waits a minute and then carefully pulls his hands away from his ears. "You swear you won't mention this again?"

Lily almost rolls her eyes. "Yes," she insists. "Now go."

Harry gets up swiftly, but he hovers there.

"Well? What is it?" Lily asks, eyebrow raised.

"Err, can I take the Floo to Hogsmeade please?"

Lily blinks. "Right. How did you even get here anyway?"

"I took the Bus? And, err, I'd rather avoid it again if possible?" He looks queasy at the thought, and for a moment Lily does consider making him ride the Bus on the way back as punishment for skipping class. In the end though, she decides it would be cruel, and besides, she'd much rather know he was getting back to Hogwarts through a safer route than _the Bus_.

Merlin only knew how that think was still allowed to take passengers.

"Of course," Lily finally replies, and escorts him to the fireplace. She hugs him, sneaking one last hair ruffle until she sees him again, and says, "Now remember: be polite, bring flowers, and be there on time for the Ball. And for Merlin's sake, try not to step on her feet too much," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

"Got it," Harry replies brightly, returning the hug. "Thanks, mum."

"You're welcome. Now go, and-"

"-you're proud of me?" Harry says in her place, cheeky grin in place.

"Always," she replies with a loving smile.

She's still smiling when the fire takes him away.

 _(now to write a letter to Professor McGonagall about of her Gryffindors sneaking out of school…)_


	15. Grief and Guilt

And this is the last chapter for this story. I've had a lot of fun, thanks everyone for your support, it means a lot to me. I hope you've enjoyed reading this at least partly as much as I did writing it, and hopefully I'll see you around!

Written for the prompt: A woman teaching her child something.

 _Word count:_ 1350

 **Grief and Guilt**

Lily thinks she will remember the look on her son's face when the Veil took Sirius away forever. It spoke of rage and a heartbreak so terrible there were no words for it, and it reminded her of how unmoored she had felt after losing James.

Obviously, this was different—except that Sirius was the only father Harry could remember, for all that he was a _godfather_ and not his birth father.

She had realized what Harry was about to do only a mere instant before he started moving, and the scream that tore itself from her throat as she had watched her son try to run after Sirius—through the _Veil of Death_ —and realized that she was too far away to stop him had been heart-wrenching.

For a moment, before Remus intercepted him—saved him—she had been sure Harry was going to follow his godfather, that he would leave her.

Merlin, she had never been more grateful for anyone than she had been for Remus then. Her knees had gone weak, and if not for Tonks, she probably would have taken a curse she shouldn't have.

Everything had turned into an actual pandemonium after that. Harry had ran off somehow, chasing down Bellatrix, and Lily had taken off after him, after them, only to arrive into what looked like a full-fledged battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore with her son trapped in the middle.

Yes, that fight—and its aftermath, because Merlin that had been a mess too—had been equally awe-inspiring and terrifying to witness, and then it had turned into terrifying and sickening as Voldemort had tried to kill her soon again.

He had failed, thankfully, but even now Lily still feels the dread that maybe next time (because there will be a next time, that monster won't just give up—not with an actual prophecy, Merlin what are even their lives?—hanging over his head) he won't.

"I think I will take Harry home with me now," she tells the Headmaster coldly once he reveals the wording of said prophecy.

Dumbledore only looks old now, a far cry from the powerful figure he made moments earlier while fighting against Voldemort. He looks old and frail, but Harry looks devastated, and so she can't find it in herself to pity the man.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "I wish things had gone differently. I never wished to burden you—either of you," he corrects himself at Lily's acidic glare, "with this."

There are so many things Lily could reply to this, so many rants she could make. And maybe one day she will make them, and she'll force this man she once idolized but now sees for who he truly is (a tired old man who's in in over his head, just like the rest of them) what she thinks of his _greater good_.

But not today, she won't. Not now, when Harry needs her to be there for him much more than he needs her to be on some bitter tangent, venting at a man who came through for them in the end.

"Thank you," Lily replies, nodding her head curtly.

When she moves to leave after that, Harry follows her almost mechanically, and she thinks that if it weren't for the protective arm she wraps around his shoulders, he'd have collapsed already.

Harry doesn't speak until they've left the office and the gargoyle moves to let them out of the stairway.

"Can we," he starts, before stopping, looking surprised at how rough his voice is. "Can we go to the Hospital Wing now please?"

Lily's heart freezes in her chest. "Are you hurt?"

Harry actually looks ashamed to wave off her concern, and Lily's heart tightens in pain for him. "No, I'm fine," he replies, before swallowing visibly. "But my friends…" He trails off after that, but Lily understands him nonetheless.

"Oh Harry…" She whispers as she drags him into a hug. "I'm sure they'll be just fine, you'll see."

"But what if they're not?" he chokes out, voice muffled against her shoulder. "What if they d-What if they leave, like Sirius, and it's my fault for dragging them with me?"

"Shh," Lily says as she rubs his shoulders, eyes stinging painfully. "It won't happen."

"But what if it does?"

Lily bites her lips. "Then it does," Lily finally replies, wishing she could lie to him. "But even then, it wouldn't be your fault."

"But-"

"But nothing! You listen to me, Harry James Potter—your friends are their own people, not puppets you can control. Yes, they followed you, but do you truly believe you could have lead them anywhere they wouldn't go of their own accord? Come on, you know them better than that," she scoffs.

"It's still my fault if they get hurt, though," Harry protests mulishly, but her words seem to be getting through to him as his shoulders aren't trembling quite so much anymore.

She slaps lightly him behind the head. "No, it's not, and I'm sure they'd tell you the same thing if you ever asked them for their opinion in this matter."

She relents, her eyes softening. "Harry, you trust me, don't you?"

"Of course," Harry replies, and Lily spares a moment to feel warmed by how automatic that answer had been even as she continues speaking.

"And you know I love you, and would do anything for you, right?"

"Well, yes," he answers, nonplussed. "Because you're my mother."

Lily smiles, pleased that this lesson, at least, has stuck with him.

 _(in his first year, he had somehow gotten the impression that she needed protecting, and that he should be the one to do said protecting—it was adorable in theory, much less so in practice, when he actually had a blood-thirsty murderer after him who had terrorized him for the entire year by sending him nightmares and headaches even before actually attempting murder)_

 _(let's just say that disabusing him of that nothing hadn't been a walk in the park)_

"Then why wouldn't your friends, whom you trust and who love you in their own ways, wouldn't be able to support you too?"

"That's not fair," Harry pouts. "I hate it when you use your motherly powers on me."

"It's called logic, Harry," Lily replies. "And you only hate it because it works."

Harry deflates and seems to collapse in her arms. "I just don't want my friends to get hurt," he mumbles against her shoulder. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Oh sweetheart… I wish I could promise you that," she say, heart going out to him.

"I know," he sighs. "But I guess I can't protect them all either," he continues sadly. "At least not without disrespecting their choices," he adds with a dry smirk as he looks at her, and Lily is so proud of him her heart could burst.

"No, you can't," she confirms just as sadly, tighten her hold on him when he flinches a little.

"I'll try, I think," he says, so softly that at first she's not sure he's speaking. "I'll try to be better at this, at not putting their decisions on me. It's not," and there he hesitates a little, eyes flickering to her before he finds his resolve again. "It's not fair on them."

Lily hums supportively.

"But… I'm not sure I'll be able to do it. What if I mess up again?" he asks, voice tight with panic.

Lily rubs soothingly at his back again. "Well, then I'll be there to knock some sense back into you, and remind you that you don't have to carry all the guilt of the world on your shoulders. Leave some for the rest of us mere mortals, why don't you? I'm your mother—I'll always be there for that, for you."

Harry's lips twitch into a smile. It lasts barely an instant, but Lily sees it anyway, and it warms her soul.

"You promise?"

"I promise," she vows, and as she holds him tight, she wishes with everything she has that the world doesn't prove her wrong.


End file.
